Here All Along
by paperback10
Summary: "Admittedly, she was cute, really cute. Her silky brown hair was effortlessly pinned up in a loose bun and the short, blue dress she wore underneath her blazer hit all the right spots—OK. No."
1. Past in Present

_This isn't completely AU (they're all exactly the same characters living in the Upper East Side), but you'll see from the flashbacks that all the relationships and friendships have been tinkered with to some degree. Anyway, feel free to tell me what you think and enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

"Drop everything you're doing. We're going shopping."

She heard him sigh on the other end of the phone. "As much as I'd _love_ to witness you unleash your consumerist wrath, my essay for the Times won't write itself."

"Humphrey, it's tradition! You should know by now that the minute the leaves turn brown in Central Park, it's imperative that I replenish my wardrobe for fall!"

"Blair, it's hardly tradition when you were at Barneys two days ago."

"I am not going to repeat myself!" She proclaimed sharply.

Groaning, he picked up his jacket and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder. "OK, OK. Christ, I'm already halfway out the door."

"Good. Saks in ten. Don't be late!"

* * *

><p>"You know, if you didn't break up with Serena, I'd still have a decent shopping buddy," Blair lectured, as she glided through the shoe department in Saks Fifth Avenue.<p>

"I'm sorry if my love life doesn't revolve around Blair Waldorf," Dan said dryly, following behind her as though he were tied unto some invisible leash.

Blair shot him a cross look. "Well, it should! I need a girlfriend from time to time, you know."

"You still have Jenny," He offered sheepishly.

But she passed it off with a slight wave of her hand. "She's too busy securing her throne at Constance—as she should be anyway."

Dan let out a laugh. "I can't thank you again for morphing my sister into a ninety-pound, bon mot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil."

Blair rolled her eyes haughtily. "All she needed was a little nudge. Believe it or not, I always saw a little bit of myself in your sister." Then, she shot him a coy grin. "Maybe that's why you like me so much."

"Perhaps," He returned with a playful arch of his eyebrow. "The only downside is the fact that you constantly insist on bringing me to these shopping excursions."

"How many times do I have to remind you that shopping requires serious decision-making? And, if anyone's at fault here, it's you! You, Humphrey, are not exactly being useful."

"That's because you already look good, regardless of how many cashmere sweaters you decide to buy."

Blair smiled at him affectionately. "That's sweet, Dan. But you're still not off the hook. Now, tell me about this essay of yours. I'm guessing it's about a certain blonde Park Avenue princess?"

Dan nodded guiltily. "As tumultuous as our relationship was, it makes for good literature…"

Then, as though he suddenly couldn't take it anymore, he pulled Blair's arm so that she could properly face him. "But be honest with me."

"Always," Blair said, slightly jolted by the sudden gesture.

"Does that make me a horrible person? Me writing what Serena and I had just to get myself published?"

"Yes."

Dan's face crumpled, as another wave of guilt washed over him.

"_But_…then I remember you're my best friend, and I know that writing is your sick, twisted way of healing." She gave him a small grin, knowing that would be enough, and Dan found himself reciprocating the warmth.

"So what about you and that guy Nate then?"

Blair simply shrugged. "He's all right, I guess. We've only been on a couple dates."

"Seriously? But he's all you talk about," Dan said, furrowing his brow.

"_Well_, he's my only friend at Columbia, so who else am I supposed to talk about?"

Dan let out a chuckle.

"I still wish you studied at Columbia though and not in the fluorescent-lit lecture halls of NYU."

"And be around trust fund airheads everyday? I already have you for that, Waldorf."

Blair glared at him icily. "Four years. I've been your best friend for four years and this is how you treat me."

Dan winked at her. "Best part of our dynamic. Now buy the red dress. You'll look amazing in it."

Blair surveyed the red Oscar de la Renta dress on the hanger. "It would look good for the charity gala next week. Speaking of which, will you be making an appearance?"

"I'm not sure yet. But Jenny will." Dan quickly glanced at his cell phone. "OK, Waldorf. Fun's over. Got a deadline to meet. Coffee at the Met steps tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Blair beamed, giving Dan a final kiss on the cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>Four Years Ago<strong>

All around him milled well-dressed parents and their beaming progenies. It was the first Constance-St. Jude's brunch of the year and the Humphrey's were forced to stand awkwardly in the corner, away from the swarms of people who seemed to already know each other.

"See! I told you we'd fit in," Rufus Humphrey happily chattered, as he nursed a chilled mimosa on his left hand.

His son Dan shot him a look. "Please tell me that's sarcasm."

Rufus let out a soft chuckle, as though he had been expecting this kind of reaction from Dan all along. "Would it hurt to be a little more enthusiastic? This is one of the best schools in the city, Dan. You'll be able to follow your dreams now, get into a good college, and make a real name for yourself." Noticing the unconvinced look that remained on his son's face, Rufus let out a sigh. "Look, this past summer with your mom and me…it was a lot for you and your sister to take in, and I want to put that behind us; I want you to start this year on a good note."

It was the naked hope in his father's eyes that made Dan suddenly feel so ashamed of himself. Here he was, making their transition to a mom-free life even harder than it already was, while his dad struggled to hold everything together—their family, his marriage, and even his own sanity. And it wasn't like he was ungrateful for having been given the opportunity to go to St. Jude's. It _was_ a great school. And it _would_ prep him up for a good university. Ugh. He really was "Son of the Year," wasn't he?

Trying to shake his conscience of guilt, Dan looked up from his drink, ready to dole out some words of apology, when he noticed that his father wasn't even facing him. Instead, his gaze was settled on the brunette girl standing by herself next to the flower arrangements.

"I have an idea!" His father piped up in sudden excitement.

Dan inwardly groaned. This had "disaster" written all over it.

"Why don't you talk to that girl over there? You never know, she might be your classmate or something!"

Dan automatically blanched. Admittedly, she was cute, _really_ cute. Her silky brown hair was effortlessly pinned up in a loose bun and the short, blue dress she wore underneath her blazer hit all the right spots—OK. _No_. Dan couldn't possibly be checking out another girl right now. Especially when his dad was bent on humiliating him at any moment.

"Honest to God, I'm perfectly fine right here, Dad," He asserted firmly, deliberately enunciating every syllable and word so nothing, absolutely _nothing_ was lost in translation.

But his dad was clearly having none of it. "Go on! Humphrey's are supposed to be fearless!"

"No, we aren't! In fact, we're socially awkward and—" His muddled retort was cut short when his father practically manhandled him towards the unsuspecting brunette. Fortunately, his years of soccer practice had saved him the embarrassment of completely colliding with her, as his feet magically planted themselves on the ground. She immediately looked up at him, surprised and affronted by the suddenness of the whole thing.

"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Dan…Dan Humphrey." He tried his best to sound cool and placid but he knew for a fact that he was anything but. God was he a nervous wreck. It had only been—what? A good thirty minutes into this pretentious school function and already he had managed to make a complete fool of himself?

When her cold eyes subtly gauged his body head-to-toe, Dan was met with a sudden desire to crawl under a rock and never leave. It was either that or running up to his dad to launch into a thorough "I told you so!" speech.

When she still hadn't responded, her ferocious, brown eyes still boring a hole on his self-esteem, he latched unto the remnants of his so-called Humphrey fearlessness and forced himself to badger on. "You, uh, look like you're used to these things."

"Sorry?" She finally said, though her tone was cold and brash.

Dan nervously played with his tie, feeling his legs turn into mush. "You know, all these functions and mixers—you fit in well. I, on the other hand, don't." And then he snorted a little sloppily to hide his nerves. "I swear, if I have to listen to another string quartet play Mozart—"

"It's Debussy…'Arabesque No. 1,' if I'm not mistaken."

His mouth hung open. "Uhh…sorry?"

"And they're not _all_ playing string instruments either," she droned irritably.

Dan suddenly felt a deep flush creeping on his neck. _Abort. Abort. Abort._ "Right…so you know a lot about…er, music?"

At first, she looked like she wasn't going to reply, like she was finally going to bring this ill-fated conversation to an end, so they both could return to their respective lives never to acknowledge each other again. But, to Dan's surprise, she let out a loud and impatient sigh and deadpanned, "I grew up listening to him. He's my favorite composer."

He was about to dole out his own response, when two preppy-looking girls suddenly slid beside the brunette whose name he still hadn't gotten.

"Blair!" They greeted in unison. _Blair_. _That's her name_.

The girl standing next to Blair was a straitlaced strawberry blonde and the other, a scowling, brown-haired girl. Like Blair, they fit in perfectly with the rest of the crowd.

"Hazel, Penelope" Blair drawled in greeting, not even bothering to look them in the eye.

"Who's your friend?" The blonde one asked, nudging the other with her elbow.

"Yeah, did he rob a polyester factory?"

They both burst into short, derisive laughter, as their eyes freely roamed his clothes with the same contempt Blair had donned just a minute ago. But just when he thought he'd be locked up in his vault of insecurity forever, Blair's eyes darted towards the sneering brunette and, in a calculated fashion, she countered, "So says the girl whose dress can be seen from space!"

Her words seemed to have carried the right amount of ire, as both Penelope and Hazel quickly hushed up in alarm.

"I—"

But Blair herself had already tuned out of the conversation. "Move along, Penelope. Before my eyes burst into flames."

The girls instantly scurried away with cheeks so red Dan couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Uhh...thanks. You didn't have to, but…thanks, _Blair_." He decided he liked the way her name fell from his lips. It rolled off his tongue so easily, he was surprised he hadn't been saying it all his life.

Blair's gaze once again adjusted itself on Dan's face, but this time it was softer, with faint hints of amusement emerging from those piercing and enigmatic brown eyes of hers.

A small smile involuntarily lingered on his lips. She wasn't exactly the most inviting person, and her recent stunt proved that she had no qualms about hurting other people…but Dan, for all his rigid principles and affable tendencies, couldn't help but, well, like her. Suddenly, he wasn't too irked by his dad's bout of parental intervention anymore. In fact, he quite liked this feeling of delving into something new and unknown.

"Do you have a pen?" Blair suddenly asked, her pink lips twitching into a smirk.

Dan's face scrunched over as he began patting himself awkwardly in search of a pen, but the darn thing was M.I.A. For an aspiring writer, it sure was ironic to be bereft of the one thing he claimed to have a great hold of.

Letting out a genuine laugh, Blair suddenly closed the gap between them, until she was close enough for him to smell her sweet, flowery perfume. Dan was so caught off guard by the sudden gesture that his breath hitched in his throat. But unlike him, the close proximity didn't seem to faze the brunette one bit, as she boldly grabbed the pen he had foolishly forgotten about in his breast pocket, unscrewed the cap with her teeth, and pulled out his open palm.

_1136 Fifth Avenue, Penthouse_, she scribbled.

Dan furrowed his eyebrow. "What's this?"  
>Tucking the pen safely into his breast pocket and consequently earning another nervous gulp from Dan, she let out an easy smirk and said, "My address. Meet me there tomorrow at 2 PM sharp."<p>

"Um…"

"See you then, Humphrey."

Still gaping, he watched as Blair walked over towards the crowd of guests. He was finally about to turn on his heel himself when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed her suddenly being pulled to the side by a set of diamond-embellished hands.

"Blair, sweetheart, there you are!" A frenzied woman in her mid-forties exclaimed. Something told Dan that the towering and _deeply_ intimidating woman standing in front of her had to be her mother. Her eyes were the same shade of brown as Blair's and they sparkled with the same ferocity that made the hairs on his neck stand up.

"Mom, hi."

Her mother cast her a pleased smile, as she brushed a stray curl from Blair's face. "Now come along. Rose Farkas and the rest of the Colony Club want to see my new _muse_ in the flesh!"

"Already? But the contracts haven't been drafted yet…" Blair's voice was so quiet and vulnerable that Dan was surprised this was the same girl he'd been talking to just a few minutes ago.

"Don't be silly, darling! Everyone's dying to meet the _new_ face of my fall collection! And we, young lady, will _not_ disappoint them." She shot her daughter a stern look, before sauntering away in a huff.

"Of course, mom. I'll…I'll follow you in a bit."

Dan watched as Blair's plastic smile faltered and then faded, when her mother was no longer within sight. His legs were already itching to approach her but, before he knew it, she shook her head, threw on a mega-watt smile and followed after her mother with all the confidence in the world.

Somehow, the whole thing just broke his heart.


	2. Weekend Without Makeup

_Deepest, deepest apologies for the long and overdue update. The past few weeks have been a hot mess, but I hope this chapter will make up for it! Personally, I had a lot of second thoughts writing this, so do tell me what you think! Happy reading!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

Blair stared at her reflection on the mirror. On her was a deep, velvety red gown with a mermaid silhouette. Oscar de la Renta sure knew how to make a girl love her body.

In a rush of excitement, she swept her hair up with a free hand and spun around the three-panel mirror. If Dan's emotional outlet was writing, hers was most definitely shopping. So what if her life at Columbia had proven to be uneventful? So what if Hamilton House neglected to send her an invitation last week?

It wasn't like her social status had plummeted tremendously since high school or anything. No, it was still perfectly intact. Like, come on, she was dating a _Vanderbilt_—surely, that meant something! And Columbia! It was certainly no Yale, but it's _practically_ on the same level.

So there was absolutely no reason for her to be so glum. Her life was _fabulous_ and _sparkly_ just like it had always been and would _always_ be.

With newfound resolve, Blair began picking up the train of her dress to retreat back into her dressing room, when a flurry of platinum blonde locks and well-worn leather suddenly caught her eye.

"Jenny?"

The leggy blonde immediately came to a halt, and a bright, toothy smile filled her lips. "Blair! Hey!"

Laughing, the girls crashed into each other in a tight and friendly hug.

"What are you doing here?" Blair asked with a genuinely warm tone.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Oh, just running errands—it's a slow day at Eleanor's."

The pair exchanged smirks in harmonious understanding.

"Oh my god, B, that dress is beautiful!" Jenny gushed, the wheels in her fashion designing head already turning.

Blair bit her lip playfully. "It appears you and your brother have the same taste."

"Dan's here?"

"No, he just ditched me for an Office Word document," Blair drawled with a pout.

Jenny let out a smirk. "Yikes. He's still not done with that essay?"

"He's a writer. He's never done with anything."

The girls fell into another fit of laughter, when out of nowhere, a smartly dressed woman suddenly appeared behind them and seized Jenny's arm.

"Jenny! How many times do I have to tell you? We are on a schedule here!"

Jenny's cheeks instantly flushed. "Laurel, I'm sorry. I was just—"

"Oh Blair!" Laurel exclaimed, donning a cheerful façade the moment she saw her boss' daughter standing in front of her. "I didn't see you there!"

_Of course you didn't, you insufferable twat,_ Blair thought.

"Lovely dress! How are you, darling?" She brusquely let go of Jenny's arm to pull Blair in for a customary kiss on each cheek.

"Great. Just catching up with Jenny here," Blair replied through gritted teeth.

Laurel's face immediately fell. "Oh. Right, of course. I'll leave you two to carry on. Nice seeing you again, Blair." Passing a terse nod in Jenny's direction, Laurel did what Blair had telepathically ordered her to do and finally scampered away.

"You know, if she's this annoying at your internship, you can tell me, right? My mom loves you."

But Blair already knew how Jenny would respond. She was a fighter just like her, and no ghastly woman with gargantuan hair would ever change that.

"She's a piece of cake, B," Jenny said with a slight roll of her eyes. "Now quit worrying about me, and buy that dress—it's perfect for that toad charity thing we're going to next week."

* * *

><p><strong>Four Years Ago<strong>

Patience was never one of Blair Waldorf's strong suits. The longer she was forced to stay here, the louder she tapped her bright yellow, sling-back pump on the marble floor of her foyer. _Where's the goddamn elevator?_

She jammed her index finger on the elevator button for the third time and tried her best not to hiss out loud. This was _so_ not her day. All morning, stylists and make-up artists had assaulted her, tossing backhanded compliments on her appearance, making minor suggestions on how to improve it, from her hair, to her waist, to even the size of her head! And to make matters even more depressing, these were all done under the authority of her human hawk of a mother. Why, why, why did she agree to do this stupid shoot? Eleanor Waldorf Design should have _Alessandra Ambrosio_, not an amateur!

When the elevator doors of her apartment had finally diverged, Blair was so relieved that she thoughtlessly hurled herself inside the metal box, only to run smack into a hard, warm chest.

The first thing Blair saw when she opened her eyes was plaid.

And not just any plaid, but _flannel_—flannel that hung loosely off a grinning Brooklynite boy.

"Hey!" Dan instantly greeted. He beamed like a complete idiot, while she, on the other hand, attempted to steady herself.

"What are you—" Blair's surprised voice trailed off, as her mind went into overdrive.

_"My address. Meet me there tomorrow at 2 PM sharp."_

Oh God, oh God, oh God. How could she have possibly forgotten? This was the worst, the absolute _worst_ time for him to show up. How could she deal with him right now, when her mother and her slew of stylist cronies were just upstairs ready to pounce on her at any second? This was her only chance to escape and Humphrey was destroying it.

Grinding her teeth, she collected herself as best as she could and muttered, "You're early."

Dan's smile faltered a little at the iciness of her tone. "Uh…yeah. I hope you don't mind. The subway came early so…"

"Now's not a good time. You should just go."

The smile was completely wiped off his face now. "Oh…right, sure."

He was already slowly backing into the elevator, when a loud, piercing voice boomed from the distance.

"Blair!"

For a moment, Blair stood stock-still. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that a.) she had just been caught, b.) any chances to escape were long gone at this point, and c.) Dan was going to have to witness her go ballistic on her mother's assistant.

Spinning around on her heel, Blair sucked in a deep breath and snarled, "No, _Laurel_. I will not dye my hair blonde. I don't care if it makes the goddamn clothes shine any better!"

At first, Laurel was startled by the unexpected ire in the young girl's tone, but then her face quickly contorted in sympathy. "Sweetheart, it's not that…"

"What does my mother want now?" Blair whined, refusing to meet Dan's eyes, which no doubt were shamelessly devouring the open show in front of him.

Laurel let out a sigh. "Well, you see, Terry, that _fool_ of a photographer…he, um, somehow convinced Eleanor that we should go in a different direction…"

"With the theme?" Blair demanded impatiently.

"With the _model_…"

A tense silence hung in the air. Laurel was anxiously biting her lip as though she were diffusing a bomb and Dan was left hovering in palpable disbelief. But Blair's face, on the other hand, bore no emotion. Even when she spoke, she came off composed as ever.

"You know, for Eleanor Waldorf's assistant, you can be pretty slow," She began, giving Laurel enough time to look away in shame.

"My mother _wants _me in this shoot, Laurel. In fact, I'm gonna grab her right now so we can settle this once and for all."

"I don't think that's a good idea—"

"Mother!" Blair called out suddenly, speeding past Laurel to clutch unto the banister of her staircase.

It didn't take long before Eleanor Waldorf's figure appeared to discern the commotion. "Blair, darling…you're still here."

"I…I tried to tell her," Laurel explained quietly from the side.

"Tell me what?" Blair demanded, as she stared venomously at her mother. "Laurel here seems to think that I'm no longer the face of your campaign!"

"Darling," Eleanor sighed, as she slowly and hesitantly made her way down the grand staircase. "I hired these people for their expertise…and _ultimately_ they feel that we would be doing the brand…a disservice."

Blair's shoulders fell. This couldn't be happening. This was all just a bad dream.

"Look, we can drone about this all day or we can go and have some steak frites and crepes at Café des Artistes just like old times—"

"Unbelievable." The solitary word fell from Blair's lips before she could stop it.

"Darling, please don't be upset."

"Upset? You think I'm UPSET?" Blair exploded in hot, irrepressible anger. "I can't believe for one second I thought that it would be different this time!"

"You thought what would be different? Blair, look at _me_," Eleanor begged, as she tried to reach out to her daughter in concern.

But Blair pulled away from her grasp just in time to stare daggers at the pleading woman.

"Blair, this campaign is going to legitimize this company. It would take _everything _to the next level. You know how hard I've worked for that. You have always been my biggest supporter, my biggest fan."

"I'm your _daughter."_

"And as my daughter," Eleanor enunciated sharply, "I knew that you would forgive me—_in time_. But if my company had lost this deal because of you, I'd never forgive myself."

"Well," Blair murmured expressionlessly as she made her way into the elevator. "I hope you never do."

* * *

><p>Sitting stoically in the cramped hallway of her fire exit, Blair willed herself not to cry. Her life was in complete shambles. Her mother was a cold, heartless human being. And if those weren't bad enough, she would have to live the rest of her life, knowing that <em>Dan Humphrey<em> had been there to witness everything firsthand.

Everything she'd worked for to be _fabulous_ and _sparkly_ and completely self-assured had been thrown out the window just like that. She didn't even want to know what Dan must have thought of her now.

Blair was so wrapped up in her own misery that she failed to discern the sound of footsteps slowly approaching her.

"If I knew you'd still be in the building, I would have come sooner."

Blair blinked at him in surprise.

"Did Dorota send you here to talk to me?" She demanded icily.

"No. I'm here by myself."

Blair averted her gaze back to the ground. She couldn't stomach the sincerity in his eyes, especially when she was being so cruel.

"You're free to leave, Humphrey. No one's stopping you."

He let out a sigh. "Look, I don't know anything about you, but—"

"You're right. You don't. Dorota can show you the way out."

Blair squeezed her eyes shut and reclined her back against the white brick wall. She knew, for a fact, that he would take this as his cue to leave, because that's what they all did, wasn't it? Everyone left at some point, and Blair had resigned herself to that reality a long time ago. Dan would be no different.

However, when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that he was still hovering in the background, still gazing at her, still breathing the same air as she did.

Before she knew it, he let out another sigh and slumped against the wall across from her. He sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, and Blair found herself welcoming the companionable silence that gradually settled between them.

She had never experienced this type of intimacy with another person before. It felt so foreign and weird that a part of her was already urging her to tell him off once more, to make him leave for good so she could do what she always did: don the infamous mask of indifference that had always served to be her best mode of defense.

However, for the first time in her life, Blair realized she couldn't. She was paralyzed on the spot, defenseless to the currents he so easily sent her way.

So she sat there, openly conceding and not caring one bit that she did, when, all of a sudden, Dan opened his mouth to speak.

"My mom kind of left us a couple of months ago," He murmured vaguely. "Only my dad and my sister don't really see that."

Blair suddenly felt her throat tighten.

"She told us she had to go away for the summer, to follow her dream of being an artist, but…it's not summer anymore. And she's still up there. That's all she seems to care about. So every time I go to see her, I tell myself _this time_ I'm gonna tell her what I think; this time I'm gonna look her in the eye and say, 'Either come home or leave for good.' And so there I was; just the other day, I was sitting across the table from her, looking her straight in the eye, and…I didn't say anything."

"Why not?" Blair heard herself asking.

"I don't know," He replied truthfully.

"But I wish I had. Because even if it didn't change anything, she'd know how I felt."

* * *

><p>Blair quietly walked into her kitchen, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.<p>

"Mom."

"Blair! Where on earth have you been? You cause a big scene and then you leave without bothering to tell anyone?"

"Do you love me?"

"What?" Eleanor rasped in mounting impatience, as she raked a hand through her hair.

"Or is it just daddy who's brave enough to say it out loud?"

Her mother's eyes flickered in concern. "Darling, what has gotten into you?"

"I didn't want to be a part of your campaign," Blair blurted out. "I knew from the very beginning that it was a bad idea, but I went along with it anyway, because you wanted me to. Everything I've done and achieved and worked for…it was all for you, mom." And then she paused to take a deep breath. "But only now do I realize that no matter how hard I push myself, I'll never be good enough for you. There will always be something about my hair being too dry, my waist too big, my legs too short, my grades too average, my face too ordinary. And you know what? I'm exhausted, mom. So, please, for both our sakes, just say it to my face already. You don't love me."

"Darling…"

"You don't love me," Blair repeated, as tears formed in her eyes. She was replaying Dan's words in her head over and over again, forcing herself to finally let it all out, because she _had_ to do this. She had to do what Dan couldn't do in front of his mom last summer. She had to do this for the both of them.

"Stop," Eleanor suddenly spoke. The older woman held up a shaky hand and tightly pursed her lips. "I can't stand here and listen to this...to my own daughter tell me that she doesn't think that I…I love her…so please just stop." Then she turned the other way, no longer able to face the hurt in her daughter's eyes.

"I've never been the best mother to you, Blair; I'll admit that. All these years, I've pushed you and pushed you…but it was never my intention to push you _away_." With her voice shaking, Eleanor gripped a nearby granite countertop for support, as she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a methodical series of breaths.

"When your father left…"

"Mom…" Blair suddenly whispered.

"_No_, Blair. I owe you this," Her mother asserted. "When Harold left…I did everything possible not to think about it. I immersed myself in work, spent more time at the atelier and every waking hour at something I knew I couldn't and _wouldn't_ fail at. And then Bendel's came and they were offering a lot, and I just got it into my head that you should be the face of my new campaign, because, darling…you're _perfect_. You were my first model, the first to ever wear my clothes."

"But I'm not a model, mom."

"We can fix that," Her mother sputtered out almost desperately. "I'll hire a different photographer. We'll do this in _your_ terms—"

"Mom, _stop_. This isn't who I am. Waldorf women aren't socialites or empty faces in a fashion magazine. I want to be _Anna Wintour_, not Kate Moss."

They locked eyes for a moment under the dim light of the kitchen and a silent understanding passed between them. Eleanor's face softened, as she took in the determination in Blair's eyes, which were so brown and piercing just like her own.

Smirking, she closed the distance between them and brushed a lock of hair away from Blair's eyes. "You really are my daughter, aren't you?"

"I am," Blair replied, as another tear trickled down her cheek.

It was at that moment when her mother pulled her in for a hug, a hug that neither of them knew they were capable of.

"I really do love you, Blair," Eleanor quietly whispered into her ear.

"I love you too, Mom."

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

"It's me."

"_Blair_?" Dan exclaimed in surprise. "Wait, how'd you even get my number?"

Instead of responding, Blair sucked in a deep breath and blurted, "Two months ago, my dad left my mother for a 31-year-old model…a male model."

_Silence_. That was all she heard on the other end of the phone.

"And last year, I suffered from bulimia," She added in quickly, fearing that her sudden fit of courage would run short at any moment.

"Blair…"

There it was. The sincerity in his voice. It made her tear up a bit, but she carried on anyway, even though she had to do it in the midst of a giant sob. "And when I'm sad, like really, really sad, Dorota and I go to Central Park and we feed the ducks…by that spot next to the benches."

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked quietly, not at all perturbed by the immensity of what she was divulging.

"Because you're right," Blair proclaimed, as she reached for the tissue box near her bed. "You don't know a single thing about me, so I…I thought I could give you a run-down. And, well, this is it. This is…me." She tightened her grip on the phone and pressed her ear closer to the receiver in hopes of gauging his reaction. Why she cared so much about what he thought—Blair didn't know. All she knew was that Dan was different from everyone else; he was honest and astute and he genuinely wanted to get to know her—at least she hoped he did.

But as time went on, and all she could hear was the quiet and steady rhythm of his breath, Blair's cheeks began flushing like crazy.

It was official. Blair Waldorf was going to die of utter humiliation.

"Anything else I should know about?"

Blair's mouth fell in shock. If she weren't mistaken, there was a hint of a smile in his voice too. And not just any smile; it was the one he always gave her without thinking, that mix of sheepishness and affability.

"I'm obsessed with Audrey Hepburn," Blair impulsively betrayed, as the little knots in the pit of her stomach loosened and a smile found its place on her lips.

"Who isn't?" He returned lightheartedly.

"And French cinema, too," Blair hiccupped, as she dabbed a tissue on her eye.

"Yeah? Who's your favorite director?"

"Claude Chabrol, obviously."

"Are you kidding me? Chabrol definitely has nothing on Rohmer."

Blair had to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a complete idiot. He actually knew who Chabrol was! He even had the gall to question her taste!

With flushed cheeks and a giant smile, she countered, "Have you seen _Le Boucher_?"

"Have you seen _Pauline at the Beach_?"

Despite the visual impediment, she could tell that Dan was playfully arching his eyebrow. In an instant, and for no clear reason whatsoever, the two burst into laughter, effectively washing away all the qualms and scruples Blair had felt earlier before.

"And another thing," She managed in between giggles. "We're having lunch on the Met steps tomorrow."

"_We_?" He exclaimed teasingly.

Blair rolled her eyes and smirked. "_Yes_, Humphrey, Consider yourself officially annexed into the Upper East Side fold. But just as a warning, Penelope and the girls tend to talk _at length_ about the most vapid things, so please try not to kill yourself midway through lunch."

"Noted," He said with a snort.

"Walk me to school tomorrow?"

"You bet."

"Bye, Humphrey."

"Good-bye, Blair."


	3. The Meeting Place

_Again, I sincerely apologize for the late update. From now on, updates will be more regular; I can assure you of that! But just to clarify on how this story will pan out, I should probably tell you that the flashbacks will not always be stuck on a specific year; the flashback in this chapter, for example, jumps straight to the year before the present, as opposed to four years ago._

_Oh, and to **Anon Wolf**, thanks for the heads-up! :) Seriously!_

_Other than that, I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter! Cheers!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

"Let me be blunt, Humphrey. This story is no good."

Dan's heart sank so far down he could hardly think straight. "But your secretary said it was—"

"It's not _bad_, but it's not good either," Noah Shapiro grunted. He then proceeded to adjust his glasses to appraise the stammering youth whose eyes were bloodshot and appearance, more disheveled than normal.

"In fact, it's the same thing you've been giving me all summer. You've sent me five stories now, and you know what they've been about? A sheltered, young man with _girl trouble_ who lives with his daddy in Brooklyn—you think that deserves a spot on the _Sunday supplement_ of the _New York Times_?"

"I just—I thought a writer was supposed to write about what he knows, and this is what I know," Dan reeled, rubbing his hair in flustered fashion.

"Then learn something new!" The blustering man spat out. "Get out of your comfort zone! The cardinal rule of writing is if your work's too safe, do something dangerous."

Dan blanched. His story couldn't have been that bad…could it? His mind began racing as he tried to mentally piece together his essay, the same essay that the frowning New York Times Magazine editor was currently using as a coaster. A _coaster_!

God, he was mortified. And the worst part was that he had no one else to blame but himself. The extent of his "work" last night had been to down two cans of Red Bull and watch countless repeats of The Daily Show, only to subsequently cave in at around 3 AM and shamelessly use a draft that he had started last year but never got around to finishing. It was one of many unfinished drafts that made up what Blair herself had ingeniously dubbed his personal "Serena Shrine."

Dan felt his heart sink once more. Serena had always been his muse, his favorite go-to subject. Writing about their relationship was what had brought him to this very office in the first place. But as he stared at the aging editor right then, whose face bore evident traces of displeasure, he wasn't so sure Noah Shapiro remembered that.

"I…I wouldn't even know where to begin," Dan finally croaked out.

Letting out a weary and impatient sigh, Noah got up from his chair and threw Dan's portfolio squarely on his lap. Dan winced at how heavy and dead it felt against his knees.

"I don't say this to a lot of people, especially to some kid fresh out of high school," Noah began, as he turned to gaze down his 30th floor window. "But even I have to admit that you have what it takes. You write a good narrative, Humphrey, and you have good insight."

Dan's mouth fell. Noah Shapiro never flattered. He grunted, frowned, and glared at you until you spontaneously combusted on the spot. But this…this was different.

"With that being said," Noah drawled, interrupting Dan's train of thoughts, "You can just imagine how much it kills me to watch you waste those things on such second-rate drivel."

Guiltily, Dan's eyes fell on the portfolio sitting on his lap. It was almost weighing him down, reminding him why he would always be at the bottom, why he would never be good enough.

But today would be different, Dan told himself. Today would be the day he finally proved to Noah Shapiro, to Blair and to everyone else that Dan Humphrey was more than just a "second-rate" writer.

"I might have one thing that might interest you," He found himself unconsciously blurting out.

"Go on," Noah Shapiro prodded, suddenly intrigued.

Dan gulped. Ok, so maybe this was a bad idea. This was definitely the Venti Americano talking and not, _you know_, the rational part of his brain.

But it's OK. He could easily salvage the situation. _Just stand up and leave, Dan. Leave while you're still ahead. Don't even think of responding—_

"It's…um, a satire. About the Upper East Side. Kind of like _Bonfire of the Vanities_ meets _This Side of Paradise_."

God, this onslaught of word vomit was worse than Dan had imagined.

"And how long have you been working on this?" Noah Shapiro continued, his words sharper than knives.

"Four years, off and on."

"So send me a draft."

Dan's face turned pale at the suggestion.

"I…_no_. No, I can't. God, I shouldn't have even mentioned it," He stammered anxiously. If anyone found out—if _Blair _found out—he'd never see the light of day again. Shuffling to his feet, Dan quickly grabbed his jacket and made a beeline for the door.

"Why not?" Noah Shapiro called out, holding the young man's gaze with grave persistence.

Dan sighed, feeling his hands grow clammy and his breath, painfully scarce. "Because the people in that story are my friends, my best friends, my family."

The old man's face wrinkled in disappointment. "When will you understand that to make good art, you have to stand alone and observe it and not care whose feelings you hurt or what people think of you?"

Dan stared longingly at the door, his legs already itching to run away from this horrid conversation.

"For once in your life, Humphrey, take a stand. Be a great man instead of always being a good boy."

It was the foreign gentleness in Noah Shapiro's tone that really struck a chord with Dan.

Suddenly, every fear and doubt he had felt earlier before vanished into thin air. With a clear head and an expressionless face, Dan finally forced himself to meet his mentor's eyes.

"I'll drop it off tomorrow."

Noah smirked.

"I look forward to reading it."

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Ago<strong>

"Well?"

"It's good…"

The color drained from his face. "Oh, God. Is it that horrible? Was it too self-gratuitous?"

"No, Dan…it's really good," Blair insisted, though the hint of irritation in her voice wasn't lost on him.

"Really? You're not lying? Not pulling my tail or anything?"

She let out a sigh, as she closed the lid of his laptop to look him square on the eye. "When have I ever lied to you?"

That was all it took for Dan to break out into a huge grin and scoop the petite brunette in his long arms. "_This_ is why you're amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He was spinning her around now, but her back had suddenly grown rigid.

"I didn't know you felt this way about her…" She whispered blankly.

Dan gently pulled away to look at her. "I do, Blair," He said, breaking out into another smile. "I don't know, but the moment I met her, I was just, you know, I was just blown away—"

"Yeah, I got that," She cut in dryly, as she forcibly withdrew from his embrace. "And I also got the part about how _adorable_ Serena is when she laughs like a four-year-old, and how _endearingly_ unaware she is of her effect on you. Even Kati and Is, who haven't opened a book since middle school, would understand this!"

Dan stared at her in stunned silence.

"OK. I heard you. I'll tone down the cheesiness next time." Sullenly, he grabbed his laptop and stalked out of his bedroom.

"No! It's not that!" Blair sputtered out. She quickly followed after him, but Dan kept his back towards her as he parked himself in his kitchen, all cold and distant.

Blair let out a weary sigh.

"It's perfect, Dan. Your story's perfect. I'm just being irrationally crabby today. School's been dreadful, and the Snowflake Ball's just around the corner, so…I'm sorry. If anything should be toned down here, it's bitchy Blair. In fact, I can start by letting you pick tonight's film." To prove she wasn't lying, Blair picked up the DVD remote on his coffee table and handed it to him as a peace offering.

Dan felt his face soften. "We're totally watching _Nights of Cabiria _then."

Blair replaced her puppy dog-eyed expression with one of her trademark scowls. "You're such an ass. You know I can't watch that scene when Cabiria just thrusts her purse at Oscar, looking completely heartbroken!"

"Oh, c'mon, you're cute when you cry," Dan teased.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I repeat: you're an ass."

He was already rifling through his DVD collection when he felt a familiar vibration go off in his pocket. Excited, Dan pulled out his cell phone and read the unopened message.

_**Drop by the palace 2night? Pretty please? :) Stepbro's in town so we're having a party! Can't wait 2 c u, xoxo S**_

"Hey…uhh, Serena just texted me."

"Hmm?" Blair mumbled absentmindedly, as she flipped through the New York Times magazine on his coffee table.

"Apparently, she's having a party at her place right now."

Just like that his best friend's face hardened all over again.

"Oh…well, have fun."

Stonily, she stood up from his couch and began picking up her coat and purse.

Dan stared after her in bewilderment. "What are we doing?"

Clutching the doorknob of his front door, she finally turned around to face him. "I thought you said _we _weren't doing anything tonight."

Dan let out a sigh, before wedging himself in front of the door to bar her from leaving.

"I like Serena. And I like you. And she likes me. And you like me. So how can you not like each other? It's mathematically impossible."

"Who said I didn't like her?" Blair countered defensively. "I just don't know her."

"So _get_ to know her! In fact, when's a better time to start than tonight?"

"I refuse to go to some party, Dan."

"So you'd rather we stay holed up in my crappy apartment forever and watch movies until our hair grows white?"

He meant it as a joke, but instead of letting out a smirk or firing back a witty comeback like she always did, all Blair did was frown. Silently, she tore her gaze away from him.

"Fine. Let's go."

Dan raised his eyebrow at her sudden coldness.

Without saying another word, Blair walked out of his apartment, leaving Dan bewildered as ever.

* * *

><p>"Oh, there's Serena!"<p>

A gush of rich, blonde hair and long limbs suddenly came flying towards Dan in rapturous energy. His completely _whipped_ expression revealed that he had eagerly welcomed the headlong assault and was now engaged in a passionate lip-lock with the girl of his dreams.

"How are you?" He breathed out, after breaking away from their kiss to gently rest his forehead against hers.

"Great," His girlfriend murmured blissfully. "But better…now that _you're_ here."

They stayed like that for a moment; foreheads slumped together, arms wrapped around each other, until Dan heard someone from behind noisily clear her throat.

"Blair! Oh my gosh, hi!" Serena greeted sheepishly, as she pulled away from Dan to give her a welcoming hug.

"Serena, nice to see you again," Blair said tightly, ignoring the look of disapproval that appeared on Dan's face. She had been painfully quiet during the whole cab ride here, but the least she could do was keep her end of the bargain and at least _try_ to get to know Serena.

Thankfully, Serena hadn't picked up on Blair's obvious display of coldness. Her face was still beaming in that infectious way that made Dan momentarily forget where and who he was. Just like how he was when he first met her two weeks ago, in their chance encounter on the Lower East Side—

"Oh! Chuck! Come here!" Serena exclaimed suddenly, pulling Dan out of his thoughts. She walked over to a brown-haired figure in a gaudy suit and excitedly latched her hand around his arm.

"Sis, this is an Armani suit," The brown-haired figure scowled, but Serena ignored him and forcibly pulled him towards their little group.

"And _this_ is my boyfriend, Dan."

Despite the immaculate shape of his suit, the rest of him, Dan couldn't help but notice, was worse for wear. There were faint smudges of lipstick on Chuck Bass's left cheek and his eyes were bloodshot—presumably a result of the pot he had been smoking earlier before. Something told Dan that this guy would be bad news.

"Brooklyn?" Chuck drawled lazily.

Dan raised his eyebrow at him. "…is where I _live_. But as Serena mentioned, the name's Dan."

"Otherwise known as my sister's new chew toy. Nice to meet you." Chuck simply raised his glass of scotch as a salute of sorts, but it was clear he had already tuned out of their conversation.

Affronted by his arrogance, Dan turned to his girlfriend for support but all Serena did was laugh it off, like him being called her "new chew toy" was the funniest thing in the entire world.

He was already contemplating putting an end to this forced conversation altogether, when he noticed where Chuck's predatory eyes were now trained—on Blair's slightly generous neckline, that is.

"And who do we have here?" Chuck smarmed, making Dan unconsciously clench his fists.

"Chuck, this is Dan's best friend, Blair Waldorf," Serena offered brightly. However, when she, too, noticed the wolfish smile on her stepbrother's face, she narrowed her eyes at him and frowned. "Tone down the smarminess, will you?"

That only served to make Chuck's smirk widen even further. With a sudden display of bravado, he ignored his stepsister and inched closer towards where Blair was standing.

"Blair Waldorf, pleasure to make your acquaintance. I'm Chuck Bass."

It was almost too funny watching Blair stare down the smirking Lothario with her no-bullshit expression. It was a cold, withering look that could cut through ice, and Dan could not have been any prouder.

And as though she had finally grown bored with the whole spectacle in front of her, she abruptly turned to face Dan and drawled, "I need a drink."

With that, she stalked off towards the bar and a wave of happy relief washed over Dan.

The only problem was that Chuck didn't appear the least bit put off or offended by the rejection. In fact, he was still smirking, his eyes already calculating his next move.

"The girl speaks my language," Chuck murmured in awe. "Serena, Brooklyn. See you two later."

And just like that, the relief Dan had felt a short second ago vanished, as he watched Serena's smarmy stepbrother follow after his best friend.

"God, he is _relentless_," Serena smirked, rolling her eyes for effect.

Dan noisily cleared his throat. "So tell me about this stepbrother of yours. He goes to Brown, right?"

Serena nodded enthusiastically, before wrapping her hand around his. "Yeah, but he's taking a year off so he can intern for Bart here in New York."

"He's moving _here_?" Dan asked incredulously.

"Isn't it great?" Serena beamed, oblivious to the pulsing vein on her boyfriend's temple. "Eric and I were so bummed that he left for university last year, but now we get our step-bro all to ourselves for _twelve_ whole months!"

Dan's face blanched, his back growing stiff. "And when you told him to 'tone down the smarminess,' what exactly did you mean?"

Serena's face broke out into a knowing grin. "Look, I love Chuck to bits but he is a total _rake_. He brings home a new girl, like, every night."

"OK, I'm gonna have to tell Blair," Dan suddenly announced. He anxiously tried to discern Chuck and Blair's figures from the crowd, but there were too many people in the hotel suite for him to get a good look. Heart beating, he began picking up his pace, when he felt a familiar tug on his sleeve.

"Dan, I've already told him _explicitly_ not to mess with Blair," Serena cajoled as she sidled up to him. "He'll probably just make some lewd comment, then leave her be for the rest of the night. So _please_, do me a favor and relax! In fact, what's a better way start than to watch me do the most epic Guitar Hero rendition of 'Free Bird' your deprived ears will ever get to hear?"

Dan felt his face soften. Serena was right. He had nothing to worry about. Blair could fend him off on her own, just like what she had been doing with virtually every guy at St. Jude's for the last three years.

Yes, Dan had nothing to worry about. Chuck Bass would be no match for the force that was Blair Waldorf, no match at all.


	4. We Could Be Friends

_So apparently, I have a problem with keeping promises. Super sorry for the long wait, guys! __Oh, and after reading a few comments, I think I should probably clarify some things about the story:_

_First of all, the Present Day is set in Blair, Dan, Serena, and Nate's first year at university; Blair and Nate are at Columbia, while Dan's at NYU. In this chapter, you'll discover which university Serena goes to. Also, I should note that Chuck is two years older than everyone. As you know, from the flashback in the last chapter, Serena was happy that Chuck decided to put off his second year at Brown so that he could move back to the City and intern for Bart. But in that same flashback, Blair, Serena and Dan are only high school seniors. So this means that in the Present Day, while Serena, Blair, Dan and Nate are experiencing their first year at university, Chuck should already be in his third. _

_Does that help at all? If not, just leave me a comment, and I promise I'll get back to you. But for now, enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

It was another crisp Thursday afternoon, and the young couple was seated at their usual table at their usual coffee shop.

Compared to the rest of the city, it was a rather quiet, placid setting with leather-bound books lined up against the wall and dimly lit chandeliers suspended above their heads. Blair had loved it here the moment she stumbled upon it during her first week at Columbia. It was the only place that seemed like a source of comfort and refuge, when everyone around her had quickly and easily made new friends while she remained lost and, well...lonely.

Until the day she met Nate, that is.

The guy in question was sitting across from her, nursing his own peppermint tea, his bright blue eyes already lit with animation. He was rambling again—something about sports or his grandfather or whatever was bothering him that afternoon—while Blair simply contented herself with smiling dotingly and never once disturbing him. She didn't know why but there was comfort to be sought in the way they promised to have these little get-togethers every week.

It was an odd relationship. She and Nate hadn't shared so much as a kiss that lasted longer than an innocent peck on the lips and nor did they ever attempt to change that or delve deeper into things. Maybe, once upon a time, they were headed for something, but the more they got to know about each other, the more they settled into this comfortable gray area, where monogamy and platonic sentiment played a role.

A wistful smile lingered on her lips, as she recalled how they first met.

"_You waiting for someone?" _

_Blair rolled her eyes in annoyance. If there was one thing she hated, it was small talk with complete strangers. She donned a blasé look before finally turning around to face the inquisitive guy behind her in the cashier line. The moment she did, however, she nearly combusted on the spot. _

_In front of her was a bona fide Greek god, the kind who graced the covers of Dorota's romance novels, all bare-chested and smoldering. He had ocean-water eyes, ash-blonde hair, and a full set of lips that had momentarily reduced her to one of Pavlov's salivating dogs. _

_With burning cheeks, she coughed out, "I'm sorry?"_

"_I just asked you if you're waiting for someone," the Adonis clarified with a grin._

"_Um, no. I mean, yes, I am," Blair corrected herself, sloppily choking on her own words. "I'm actually here for a group meeting, but it seems I'm the first to arrive." She snuck a quick glance around the coffee shop but still saw no sign of them. _

"_Oh, cool. What group is this?" He asked, still keen on furthering their conversation.  
><em>

_Blair regained her posture. "The Masters of the Universe Society."_

_The guy nearly choked on his coffee, pausing to burst into a loud fit of laughter._

"_What's so funny?" She demanded, then and there deciding he was no longer as cute as he first appeared._

"_I'm sorry," he quickly pacified. "I just find it hard to believe that you're a He-Man fan."  
><em>

"_A He-what?"_

"_He-Man. Masters of the Universe," He explained slowly, surprised by the bewildered look on her face. "It, uhhh, was a pretty big cartoon in the 80s."_

_Blair gave him a look. "What are you talking about? It's a society for Wall Streeters and they meet at this coffee shop every Thursday."_

_The guy paused for a moment to stare at her. "No, it's… not. But if you want to find out for yourself, you should probably ask them." Grinning, he pointed at the table to his left filled with scrawny, sandal-wearing students whose heads were bent over on their laptops. She was just about to accuse him of hoaxing her, when suddenly her eyes fell on the tiny, little placard on their table that read: "Masters of the Universe."  
><em>

"_Oh my God," Blair blurted out, as the forceful wave of realization hit her. To say she was humiliated would be an understatement. _

_Suddenly feeling foolish, she decided she no longer had it in her to meet the stranger's amused, sea-blue eyes, so she turned to make her exit, when—"You know, I still have some time before practice." _

_Blair looked up at him, wondering where exactly he was going with this._

"_How about I get your name and I buy you a coffee?"_

_She blushed. "Um, sure. I'm Blair…Blair Waldorf."  
><em>

"_And I'm Nate Archibald."_

"Blair?"

Blair was jolted out of her reverie. "S-Sorry?"

Nate smiled. "I was just asking how Dan was."

"Oh," she said, quickly readjusting herself. "I have no idea, actually. He had a meeting with his editor yesterday, but he never called to tell me how it went."

"Maybe it didn't go too well?"

"Maybe," She replied thoughtfully. "But he always calls, even if all he has is bad news."

"—Oh crap, speaking of bad news, I have lacrosse practice, like, right now," Nate said suddenly, scowling at his leather Cartier watch. He gazed up at her with a boyishly apologetic grin. "I feel like a jerk for having to cut our coffee date short…"

"It's fine!" Blair insisted with a smile. "I have class in a bit anyway. Here, I'll walk you out." She finished off her latte with a quick gulp and then picked up her suede purse so they could finally be on their way.

"So I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow night and we'll go to the gala together, yes?"

"Can't wait," She returned in a singsong voice.

"Great," Nate said with a satisfied grin.

"See you tomorrow then."

He placed a chaste peck on her cheek before finally crossing the street.

"Blair? Is that you?"

Like everyone else on the street, Blair found herself staring open-mouthed at a willowy blonde, whose looks screamed plunging cleavage, red, smoldering lips, and legs that lasted forever.

"SERENA?" Blair gasped out in disbelief.

The radiant blonde didn't give Blair another second to process her thoughts before pulling her in for a huge hug.

"What are you doing here?" Blair blurted out, still pressed against her best friend's ex.

"I go to Columbia!"

The brunette's mouth elongated another two inches. "Y-you go to Columbia? But what about _Brown_? You were supposed to go to Brown!"

Serena laughed. "I know, but then I realized how much I'd miss the city and Mom, and Eric and Bart, so I—"

"Decided to stay and enroll here," Blair finished off disbelievingly.

"Exactly," Serena nodded with a toothy smile. She seemed so genuinely happy to see her that Blair felt guilty for failing to match her excitement. But how could she, when the whole encounter simply made her nauseous? She hadn't seen Serena all summer and had long made peace with the fact that she would never see her again once she left for Providence. But seeing her now, in the flesh, in _her_ school of all places, made Blair's stomach churn uneasily.

Realizing she hadn't spoken yet, she tried desperately to muster a smile and ask, "Um, so how are things?"

"Good, things are good!" Serena answered a little too quickly. "My classes have been interesting and I've met tons of people, and there's just a really fun and energetic environment here, you know?"

Blair didn't know. Her classes were stuffy, the people, vapid and uninteresting, and not once had she ever come across this 'fun' and 'energetic' environment Serena seemed to fawn over. Nonetheless, she slipped a huge grin on her face and said, "Absolutely, it's definitely, um, a _great _school."

"I know, right? I'm so glad I changed my mind. It still freaks me out how set I was on going to Brown and following _Chuc_—I mean, I'm _sorry._ I didn't mean to say his name—"

"No, no, no, it's OK," Blair spewed instantly, her cheeks growing redder by the second.

"No, seriously, Blair, I shouldn't have even—"

"_Serena_, I'm good. Seriously."

An awkward wave of silence settled between them, and all Serena could do was look at her apprehensively.

"Right…um…so I'm actually heading off to Hamilton House right now," she began again, this time with a more chipper voice. "It's orientation day and all, so…"

"Oh…you got an invitation to that?" Blair heard herself asking, the envy already brewing a storm in her head.

"Yeah, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," She replied bitterly.

Serena looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "Well, come with me then! I'm sure there's been a mix-up."

"I don't think so…"

"You're _Blair Waldorf,_" Serena pointed out persuasively."You practically hold all of Manhattan in your tiny, little palm. You're _definitely_ in Hamilton House."

"You think so?" Blair asked with a distinct tinge of hope in her voice.

"I know so!"

Blair let out a laugh, as she let Serena whisk her away. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry but if you weren't given a Tiffany key pendant, you can't be in here. Hamilton House members only."<p>

"But she's _Blair Waldorf_."

"Oh, we know who Blair Waldorf is. She wasn't even a member yet and she already failed the first test."

"And what test is that?" Blair heard herself blurting out in curiosity. She and Serena were now standing in the foyer of Hamilton House, a prewar, brownstone building just a few blocks off campus. All around them were mahogany-paneled walls, oil portraits of alumni, that general air of exclusivity that seemed to ooze out from the select group of girls standing before them.

"Dating one of our exes," replied the girl with the clipboard. "Hamilton members would _never_ do that to their sisters."

"Who is she dating?" Serena asked bewilderedly.

"Nate Archibald—as in Juliet's ex-boyfriend, you know, our _key master_. So _you_"—she glanced at Blair with a malicious glint in her eye—"pretty much went beyond just breaking our unspoken rule."

"This is ridiculous!" Serena exclaimed unabashedly.

"S, it's OK…" Blair mumbled, her cheeks flushing in humiliation.

"No, this is clearly unfair!"

"You know, I'm starting to get the impression that you're not Hamilton House-material either, Serena."

"Good!" She fired back, starring daggers at everyone in the room.

Blair shot her friend a sharp look of disapproval. "S, _stop_it. You're going to get kicked out!"

"Oh, by all means, let them kick me out!" Serena blurted out in a shrill, irrepressible voice. "Who would want to be in a club filled with disgruntled exes anyway?"

Shooting them one last glower, she haughtily pulled her brunette friend's arm and dragged her outside the suddenly too stifling building.

* * *

><p>"You've lost your mind!" Blair exclaimed, the minute they left.<p>

"If so, then at least I had a mind to begin with!" Serena grumbled childishly. "Juliet Sharpe is in dire need of one. And a reality check, too, for that matter."

That threw Blair laughing uncontrollably. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Hey, c'mon, what are friends for, right?"

The smile slowly died on Blair's face; and, in its place, came the guilt that she hadn't realized she'd been storing this entire time. "Serena…I never got the chance to apologize," she said quietly.

"For what?"

Blair bit her lip. "Siding with Dan…after, you know, you two…broke up."

Smiling weakly, Serena gave a little shrug. "He's your best friend, Blair."

"True…but you have better fashion sense."

Serena burst into laughter. "You're awful! Now, come, tell me about this Nate you and Juliet seem to be so enamored with!"

"Oh right…Nate. He's all right."

"Just 'all right?'"

"Well, he's really nice…and friendly and well-bred."

"He sounds like a puppy."

Blair giggled. "Possibly. But he's fun, and I need fun right now."

"Fun? Oh, come on, B! You don't need boys for that! Ditch class and raid Barney's with me—just like old times!"

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Of course not!"

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Ago<strong>

Blair stared at her essay, aghast. There, written at the top in glaringly red ink was a "B."

"This is a B."

"Yes. It is," Ms. Carr remarked, the bulk of her attention still dedicated to her iMac.

Blair narrowed her eyes at her. She was almost teeming with fury at being so blatantly slighted, but she managed to maintain her composure and say, in a sweet but patronizing tone:

"Look, clearly, you're still new to this school so let me explain how things work. Seniors always get at least one free pass—like _pregnant ladies_ or _14-year-old gymnasts_. It exists precisely because Constance wants their students to get into the best colleges, like, for example, Yale—you know, the school I'd practically _sell my soul for_."

Ms. Carr remained at her desk, her face still unimpressed. "You certainly have a flare for dramatics, Ms. Waldorf. Ever consider auditioning for the new play? We're doing _Age of Innocence_this year."

"_Ms. Carr_," Blair interrupted, suddenly losing her cool. "I seriously doubt that the headmistress would approve of this. You're acting outside of _convention_."

It was at this moment when Ms. Carr's dark eyes flashed and her voice took a more unforgiving tone. "Maybe, in time, I'll get in trouble for not inflating grades like everyone else; but until _then_, I'll give them based on merit. You may see yourself out now, Ms. Waldorf." She coldly gestured at the open door of her office before turning her full attention back to her computer, their conversation being now and irreparably over.

Steam practically came out of Blair's ears. She may have marched out of the woman's office with her head defiantly held high, but the childish side to her sought comfort in slamming the door as loud and seemingly unintentionally as she could. She didn't even have to think twice before automatically brandishing her phone and sending Dan a text:

_**"911: WHERE ARE YOU? WE HAVE A TAKEDOWN TO PLAN ASAP"**_

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait a long time for him to reply.

"_**What did Nelly Yuki do this time?"**_His message wrote.

Blair rolled her eyes. As usual, Dan Humphrey was still one step behind her.

"_**Nelly will have 2 wait! WHERE ARE YOU?"**_

Her phone buzzed again.

"_**At the coffee shop near Serena's school. Join us?"**_

Blair groaned. She hated Grantham Prep, called it a breeding ground for the brainless spawns of Manhattan's richest families—but never to Dan's face, of course. Serena being rejected from Constance this semester due to her well-known sojourn at boarding school, which Mr. and Mrs. Bass had quickly grown to lament, wasn't exactly a subject Blair felt comfortable bringing up to her smitten best friend. But as loathsome as it was to be seen at Grantham, where'd she presumably be forced to make trite conversation with Serena, Blair really did need to vent.

"_**Fine. Be there in 20."**_

* * *

><p>"<em>Remind me again why we're in the Lower East Side?" Blair asked, wrinkling her nose in disapproval.<em>

_Dan smirked. "Because, as my best friend, you are concerned with the procurement of my happiness?"  
><em>

_She shot him an arch look. "Debatable."_

"_Because you secretly like the Lower East Side?" He tried again, this time raising his eyebrows in a playful and cajoling manner. All he got in return was a condescending chortle. _

_Finally, he deadpanned, "Because you've never had a pierogi in your life?"_

"_Lies!" She exclaimed with wide, disbelieving eyes. "We had lunch at Vesselka last week! When you dragged me to that info session at NYU."_

"_Precisely. It's been seven days since I last had a decent plate of—" Dan's voice trailed off, as his eyes and attention suddenly drifted to something else entirely. When Blair followed his gaze, a frown immediately settled on her face._

_There, just a few meters away from them, was an indisputably gorgeous, leggy blonde, who would have been worthy of Blair's good opinion had she not been staggering drunkenly on the middle of the street at two o'clock in the afternoon. _

_However, when a cab suddenly came racing down, its horn firing loudly, Blair was instantly seized with fear. She had barely let out a breath, when Dan suddenly sprang into action. In one great stride, he boldly leapt across the street and pushed the blonde out of harm's way, thankfully without colliding with the cab himself._

"_Hey! Right of way!" Dan barked, choosing to ignore the expletive that soon came out of the cab driver's mouth. As the cab sped away, he crouched on the ground where the girl comfortably sat and gave her a smile that Blair had never seen before._

"_Hi, I'm Dan—"_

"_My savior," the girl suddenly exclaimed, as she passionately latched her arms around him._

"_A-Are you OK? Do you need some help?" He stammered._

"_Nooooo, I just want to cuddle," she cajoled, grinning like a Cheshire cat._

"_Dan?" Blair asked awkwardly from the side._

_He looked up, positively beaming, like he couldn't believe this was happening, like he had struck gold and won the lottery all at the same time. Blair didn't like that look, not one bit. _

_She strode over with an unimpressed look on her face, and asked, "Excuse me, do you need help?"_

"_Ohh you're so pretty!" The girl exclaimed with big, excited eyes. "Are you Dan's friend too? He saved my life, you know."  
><em>

_Blair angrily ground her teeth. _

"_Do you want us to call someone for you?" Dan began again, trying to balance her as she nuzzled against his neck.  
><em>

"_Sure! Oh, but no one knows I'm here. I've done something very bad, Dan. I've run _away_," she said dramatically._

"_R-Run away from where?"  
><em>

"_Well, Knightley, of course!"_

"_Knightley?"  
><em>

"_It's a boarding school in Connecticut," Blair cut in dryly.  
><em>

"_It's a _crappy_ boarding school in Connecticut."  
><em>

_It was at this exact moment when the girl began to curl up beside Dan's all-too-willing body with even more fervor than before, leaving Blair to look away in disgust. Thankfully, a sparkly clutch on the ground caught her attention. Realizing that the only possible owner could be the parasite currently latched unto her best friend, she picked it up and began rifling through it in search of a phone or an I.D. or anything that could finally bring this crazy person back to where she belonged. Sure enough, she found a fake I.D. wedged between a tube of Dior lip-gloss and a half-empty pack of Marlboro Lights. But when she pulled it out to read the name listed on it, her mouth fell open in shock._

_**Serena van der Woodsen-Bass.**_

"_OK, I finally got her to sit still," Dan proclaimed, as he slid beside the gaping brunette. "Her name's Serena apparently, and her parents have no idea she's here. What do you think we should do?"_

"_Want my honest opinion? I think we should just go."_

"_And leave her here?" Dan asked incredulously._

"_Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to associate with Serena Bass," Blair _

_hissed. She thrust the purse towards Dan's helpless hands._

"_Why? Who is she?" He asked glancing down at the purse then back up at Blair._

"_Mr. and Mrs. Bass' daughter," She pointed out with a matter-of-fact voice. "The one they never talk about? She did coke for like a year? Got arrested twice for shoplifting and then slept with her boarding school professor—do you _not_ read the New York Post?"_

"_Wait, that's Eric's sister?" Dan exclaimed, his sister's best friend instantly coming to mind._

"_Yes! So let's go already!"_

"_But, Blair, w-we can't just leave her here!"_

"_Fine, then get her a cab—" But Blair's response was interrupted when her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. "Oh, God, it's one of my minions," she said glowering at the caller I.D. "Give me a sec."_

"_P, I have neither the patience nor the time to listen to you apologize for another screw-up—"  
><em>

"_We lost the caterers for the Black & White party!" Penelope's voice spilled into her ear.  
><em>

"_WHAT?" Blair screamed incredulously. "I thought Hazel got her restaurateur boyfriend to cater it?"  
><em>

"_She did…but that was before she caught him hooking up with his assistant."_

_Blair groaned in exasperation. "Ugh, fine. I'll fix this later when I get home."_

"_No, you have to come over now, B! All the girls are here already, and the party's next week and we barely have anything done and—"  
><em>

"_OK!" Blair burst out in an unladylike fashion. "I'll see you in 10. But warn Hazel that she should think twice before showing her face this week." She snapped her phone shut, before walking back towards Dan and Serena, who were practically attached at the hip._

"_Dan, where's her cab?" She asked impatiently, as she waved her arm to hail the nearest cab. "I have to take a rain check for the pierogies, by the way. Hazel screwed up the catering and I, once again, have to be the one to fix things."_

"_Oh, it's cool…I was thinking of staying here with Serena anyway...just until she sobers up so she can properly face her parents and stuff."_

"_Sober? Sober's not fun!" whined Serena, whose shiny blonde hair was currently spilled all over his shoulder.  
><em>

"_Are you joking?" Blair asked disbelievingly.  
><em>

"_No," He said, giving her a smile he hoped would put her overactive mind to rest. "Now, go and enjoy your day with the girls. I'll call you later."  
><em>

_Blair's mouth was still gaping even after the door to her cab was closed shut, and the vehicle began to race away._

"That'll be $25, miss," said the cab driver.

Blair immediately snapped out of her daze. "Oh…right, of course." She handed him three, crisp $10 bills, before finally extracting herself from the cab and making her way into the small coffee shop.

"Blair! Over here!" She heard Dan's voice call out. Her eyes zeroed in on him and Serena, who were seated at the corner with big, welcoming smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Blair—"

"Ms. Carr gave me a B!" Blair blurted out before Serena could even finish her greeting.

"On your _King Lear_ paper? The one I proofread for you?"

When she stubbornly held her chin up, Dan eyed her suspiciously. "You didn't edit it, did you?"

"I was busy writing my application essay for Yale, OK?" Blair argued with a pout. "Shakespeare was the last thing on my mind. Besides, seniors always get a free pass."

"At least it's just a B," Serena offered from the side.

"Just a B?" Blair exclaimed incredulously. "Do you know who I _am_? And how catastrophic this is to my otherwise flawless record?"

"I hardly think it will matter—" But Serena's feeble response was cut short, when Dan gently caressed her hand and finally stepped in to intervene.

"Blair, I think what Serena is trying to say here is that planning a Ms. Carr take-down is quite frankly the worst idea ever. You're already _in_Yale and you'll be outta high school in a few months—why would you risk all that just for an ego boost?"

"This isn't an ego boost. This is Ms. Carr disrespecting school norms and _me_ trying to correct her."

"I don't get how she's on the wrong though," Serena argued once more, her voice considerably fiercer than before. "I mean, isn't it a good thing that she's grading things based on merit and standing up against grade inflation?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know we were playing pot calling the kettle black today," Blair suddenly snapped.

"Excuse me?"

"Blair," Dan said in a warning tone. But she refused to listen to him. She was _tired_ of listening to him. For months, she had abided and sympathized with all the excuses he made for this thickheaded tart, but enough was enough. Her predatory eyes were now trained on Serena and it was evident to everyone around the table that there was no going back.

"Do you seriously expect us to turn a blind-eye on your long list of past indiscretions, while you sit here and act all self-righteous?"

"That's not what I'm trying to say," Serena insisted in a conciliatory voice, "And besides, I've _changed_."

"Changed!" Blair echoed mockingly. "Well then, I'm sure Bart and Lily Bass must find it comforting to know that after all those years of paying for your prison bails and hush money they're finally getting what they paid for!"

"Blair!" Dan stood up from his chair, both furious and appalled. "That's enough!"

He tried desperately to meet his girlfriend's gaze, but she was already picking up her things and muttering a halfhearted goodbye.

"Serena, wait! Don't—" His voice trailed off, as he watched her flee their table in quick, reckless strides.

"Damn it, Blair! What the hell was that?" He burst out angrily.

"Just me telling the truth!"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" He snapped, refusing to believe that his best friend could be so selfish. "If anyone was telling the truth here it was _Serena_. You were just being unreasonably cruel, when you know deep down that she's right."

Stonily, he slumped back into his chair and reached for his phone. "_Great_. Now she's not picking up her phone."

"I-I'm just going to leave then," Blair said with a quiver in her voice. She picked up her purse and tried to make her way out without completely falling into pieces in front of him.

* * *

><p>After listlessly roaming the city for the last hour, Blair finally decided to stop by Central Park just to keep her mind off things until the bulk of her embarrassment subsided. Dan had never spoken to her in that way before. Yes, they quarreled, and, most times, those quarrels ended with him reprimanding her; but today was different. She really did mess up this time.<p>

"What are you doing here?" A cold voice suddenly spoke behind her.

Blair turned around, her jaw falling slightly at the sight. "Serena?"

To her surprise, Serena was perched on a nearby bench with the same scowl she had donned not too long ago.

"Do me a favor and just leave me alone, please."

But Blair remained exactly where she was. She tried to fend off the uneasy feeling that quickly settled at the pit of her stomach. "You should go back, you know…Dan is looking for you."

All Serena did was purse her lips and keep her gaze away from hers.

Blair stared apprehensively at her, hating that she was forced to do this. Why couldn't Dan have just picked some Brooklyn nobody like Vanessa again? She, Blair could easily handle, but Serena—she was on a completely different level. She actually had Dan wrapped tightly around her finger and his whole heart for her keeping.

"Look, I shouldn't have said those things to you, OK?" The brunette blurted out begrudgingly. "It was totally uncalled for."

"_For once_, can you just be honest with me?" Serena exclaimed angrily.

Surprised, Blair instantly met her gaze. "I…don't know what you mean."

"You _hate_ me."

That was when Blair's eyes quickly fell to the ground.

"And I know you hate the fact that I'm with Dan. I know you think that he's too smart and too nice for me, and that I'll never measure up. But he makes me happy, OK? And I like to think that I make him happy, too. So I'm sorry if I've done anything to upset you or make you believe that I'm just stringing him along. I really like him, Blair. For the first time in a _really_ long time, I actually have serious feelings for a guy. So don't think even for a second that I'll let you or anyone else take away what we have."

There seemed to be purpose in her huge blue eyes, a bold and undaunted countenance that Blair never saw in her before.

Suddenly, she was met with guilt—hot, scalding guilt. "I'm sorry," She blurted out miserably.

"I…I don't deny being…_protective_of Dan. He's my best friend, my family. It's always just been the two of us…and then he met you, and then fell for you so quickly—" She paused for a moment as her voice quivered. "I just…got it into my head that I was losing him."

"Blair…I'm not trying to take him away from you."

"Sure feels like it," she replied, smiling weakly.

After a moment, Serena stood up and closed the gap between them.

"Why don't we start over?" She asked suddenly, causing Blair to look up in surprise. "I feel like we started off on the wrong foot. I mean the first time you met me, I was drunk and _gross_. And the other times, you had to put up with my smarmy stepbrother."

Blair mustered the strength to roll her eyes. "Ugh, please don't mention him. He's been filling my inbox with lewd texts all week."

"You guys are texting?"

"Sure, if by texting, you mean he sends me disgusting messages, and I ignore them."

Serena laughed, and it wasn't long before Blair felt herself loosening up as well. It was as though two white flags were being unfurled, and a great pressure left each of their shoulders. It was also at that same moment when a chime went off from Serena's phone.

She picked it up and frowned, "Oh, it's Dan."

"Go ahead. Take it. I'm OK," Blair insisted with an encouraging smile, but the blonde wasn't convinced.

Smiling mischievously, she ignored the call altogether and stuffed her phone back into her purse. "_Or_ I can call him back later and we can go to Barney's?"

Blair looked at her hesitantly. "You seriously want to go shopping with the person who just likened you to a messed-up airhead?"

"_No_," Serena replied pointedly, the mischievous glint never straying from her eyes, "I want to go shopping with the girl who should _really_ learn when to shut up!"


	5. Tin Man

_Good Lord, it took me forever to finish this! Sincerest apologies once again, folks. Hope the chapter makes up for the delay! Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

Dan walked out of his neighborhood FedEx branch with a gnawing pain in his stomach. The deed was done. The leather folder had been sealed, packaged, and tossed into a cart filled with other people's impending dreams.

And yet the storm in his head did not show any signs of subsiding. If he hadn't been so emotionally beaten, he would have almost appreciated the irony of his situation. For this precise moment was what every writer and every artist strove for; it was supposed to be met with nothing but the purest sense of accomplishment, to be extoled and showered with rhapsodies of praise from everyone around him, instead of being the surreptitious and stomach-churning affair that it really was.

But there was no turning back, he tried to tell himself. It was going to be a waiting game from this point on, and he could only hope that it would be prolonged as much as possible.

Exhausted, he collapsed on his unmade bed, his novel and imminent demise being the last things on his mind before his eyes mechanically shut and his breath steadied into a drowsy rhythm.

An indeterminate number of hours passed until the alarm on his phone went off. Grumbling expletives under his breath, he managed to lift his face off his pillow and reach for the cursed device.

_8:45 PM_, it read.

He swore once more. He had been asleep since 11 AM! Struggling out of bed, he stretched his body and lazily made his way to the kitchen, where he found a message waiting for him in the answering machine. He pressed play.

"_Hey kids, just calling to say that I'll be holed up at the gallery again tonight…_" His father's voice rang out.

No surprise there, Dan thought; his dad had been working late for the past couple of weeks and tonight didn't seem to be the exception.

"…_There's lasagna in the fridge. Just heat it up in the oven and it'll be good as new. Unless, of course, you guys are going to the gala; in that case, say hi to Eleanor and Cyrus for me, will you? Have fun!_"

Dan nearly snorted out the milk he had been drinking. The gala! How could he forget?

In one mad dash, he ran to his bathroom and hauled himself headfirst into his shower. Exactly ten minutes later, he shaved, slapped some old aftershave on his cheeks, and then quickly strode towards his room to pick out his clothes.

Unfortunately, his closet was in such a state of disarray that he was forced to settle for a brown suit he hadn't worn in years. He grimaced at the sight. The pants were a trifle loose and his blazer, a little itchy from neglect, but they were nothing a good belt and a thick dress shirt could remedy. After taking one last look at his appearance, he bolted out of his apartment and hailed the nearest cab.

Dan blew a sigh of relief.

He had made it just in time.

The Frick Benefit for Asian Horn Toads (or whatever was tastefully written on the banner above his head) was already in full swing with flutes of champagne being passed around and microscopic hors d'oeuvres in great abundance. The general air was charged with a buzz of activity and excitement, as he skittered past fashionable guests, looking for a familiar face or two.

Sure enough, a comically matched couple he knew all too well came shortly into view.

"Eleanor! Cyrus!" Dan beckoned, grinning from ear-to-ear and already striding towards them.

"Hello, hello!" came the response of the balding, five-foot man who could only be Blair's stepfather. Ever the hugger, Cyrus Rose pulled Dan in and cheerfully squeezed the air from his lungs. Taking pity on Cyrus' latest victim, Eleanor Waldorf-Rose decided a small kiss on the cheek would suffice.

"Oh, Daniel, you have no idea how _glad_ we are to find you here," She gushed in the dramatic flair she was known for. "In fact, there is someone who would like to say hello to you! Now, where did that boy go?"

Dan's inquisitive brow had barely arched itself when a young man of similar height and age suddenly clasped his shoulder. "Humphrey!"

"_Aaron_!" Dan blurted out in surprise. "Jesus, I haven't seen you since summer! What are you doing in town, man? RISD's treating you well, I hope?"

A dimple appeared across the bristly skin of Aaron Rose's cheek. "School's good, but your dad didn't tell you? I'll be in town for a while. I'm having an art exhibit."

Dan's eyes flew open. "_What?_ That's—that's amazing!"

Aaron, who was naturally endowed with a meek disposition, could only flash an embarrassed grin. "Nah, it's really not a big deal. It's Rufus who's doing all the work."

This was when Cyrus stepped in to exclaim in fatherly reproach, "Not a big deal? Not enough, Aaron! Not enough!"

"_Yes_, darling," Eleanor scolded lightly, following in her husband's footsteps. "Your exhibit hasn't even come out yet, and New York magazine is already hailing you as one of the new up-and-comers of the year!"

Aaron's cheeks burned even more, while Dan took the liberty to teasingly nudge him on the ribs.

"So, man, tell me about this exhibit of yours!" He probed, waving Eleanor and Cyrus off as they left to say hello to a couple they were acquainted with.

Aaron ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly, it's just a couple of photos…sort of inspired by—"

"Jenny!"

Aaron let out a violent cough. "_W-What_?

"Sorry, it's just that Jenny and Eric are over there," Dan replied absentmindedly, his left arm flailing high. "Hey, Jen! Over here!"

"—You know, I'm just gonna use the bathroom," Aaron suddenly blurted out, his voice etched with the most unusual trepidation.

Dan glanced at him in bewilderment. "Don't you want to say hi to Jenny? She'll be glad to see you—and Eric, too."

Aaron's feet, however, were already scrambling away. "For sure, I-I'll, uhh, meet up with you guys later."

"But wait—"

Dan's line of vision was suddenly blocked by the timely appearance of his sister and her best friend, Eric Bass.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight!" Jenny said, smiling up at her brother.

She was dressed in a short mauve dress that charmingly clashed with the dark kohl around her eyes, while Eric looked as easy-going as ever in his smart-looking navy suit.

"Changed my mind. But did you know that Aaron's back?"

"Oh. Yeah."

Dan narrowed his eyes at his sister. "Wait, why aren't you as excited as I am?"

"Yes, Jenny, why _aren't_ you as excited as your brother?" Eric shortly prompted, shooting her a speaking look that bewildered Dan even further.

Color rushed into her cheeks. "I _am _excited. My mind's just…um, currently preoccupied at the moment."

"What could possibly be more important than Aaron's homecoming?" Dan demanded incredulously.

"Um…w-well," She stammered, glancing from one boy to the other, "For one thing, that—that suit you have on! It's _horrendous_, Dan!"

"What are you talking about? This is a good suit," Her brother muttered defensively, casting her a sullen look.

Eric watched the two glowering siblings in amusement. "Putting aside Jenny's mediocre diversionary tactics," he droned, shooting her a disparaging look, "I must say that it baffles me how you can wear _that_ and be Blair Waldorf's best friend at the same time."

Dan grinned. "Ah, that's the beauty of friendship, my good sir: the ability to agree to disagree. Blair and I have been doing it since the dawn of time."

"Well, then you should give Jenny here a lesson or two on friendship. She seems to have forgotten she had one with Aaron to begin with."

Jenny's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. "I so have not!"

"You don't like Aaron?" Dan inquired in dismay. "You guys used to be so close, though."

"I like Aaron," She insisted vehemently. "And I _am_ happy that he's back."

"Good, because now that he's dad's client, we'll be seeing his face a lot from now on," He shot her one last reproachful look, before tearing himself away to find his own best friend.

Fortunately, the search hadn't proved to be too difficult. Blair was standing in the middle of the ballroom, looking radiant in her red Oscar de la Renta gown. Dark, silky curls elegantly cascaded down her bare back, as she sipped her Dom '85 demurely and smiled at passing acquaintances.

Even in a room filled with the most lavishly attired people, she managed to outshine them all. And Dan—well, he couldn't be any prouder.

"Waldorf!" He called out, all smiles. "What did I tell you about that dress? You look amazing!"

"Dan!"

He noticed the panic in her eyes.

"You came!" She exclaimed awkwardly, and then peered behind him as though she were looking for someone.

"Should I have not?" He asked, a little bit offended.

"No! Don't be silly! It's just that—" She bit her glossy lip and frowned. "I have to tell you something, Dan, and I'm afraid you won't like it."

He instantly eyed her in concern. "Everything OK?"

"Everything's good…_great_ actually. But, you see, the thing is—" Blair's explanation was suddenly interrupted when a hand latched itself on her arm and its owner beamingly exclaimed, "B! You _have_ to listen to Nate's story!"

Dan's entire body froze, except for his eyes, which aggressively dilated at the sight.

"Serena?"

"Dan!"

"You—"

"I—"

It was Serena. Good God, Serena Bass was standing in front of him.

And she looked…she looked exactly the same, he realized. Still blindingly beautiful, still mesmerizing, still _Serena_—in her bright blue gown, her golden, wavy hair, her pearly white teeth, peeking through as they fastened on her bottom lip—and she was standing in front of him, horror written across her perfect, sun-kissed face.

It was also at this precise moment when Nate Archibald decided to come waltzing by, delightfully ignorant. "Dan! Buddy, what's up? Haven't seen you in ages!"

When no one spoke, tension still thick in the air, Blair wisely grabbed Nate's hand and said in a syrupy voice, "Why don't we go get you a drink, Nate?"

"I already have a drink," he replied, but this piece of information was left ignored as Blair pulled him towards the crowd.

And now they were alone. Uncomfortably and utterly alone.

Dan suppressed the urge to loosen his collar.

"So, um, how are you?" He finally asked, though he regretted how mangled and forced his words came out.

Serena opened her mouth to answer but at the last minute decided to close it again. Two bright, rosy spots emerged on her cheeks.

"Are you, uhhh, visiting the city, your family?" He tried once more, smiling like an idiot and feeling like one all the same.

She chewed on her lip, pondering whether to answer his question or not, until, to his infinite relief, she found her voice. "No."

"Right…"

"I…" She bit her lip again. "I actually…study here. At Columbia."

For a moment, Dan's body went rigid, but then to her dismay, he merely shook his head and let out a chuckle, as though he thought it were all a joke. Serena wished it were.

"I never pushed through with Brown," She forced herself to blurt out. "I-I decided to stay here…in New York."

And just like that they were engulfed by another wave of silence.

Squirming uncomfortably, Serena tried to engage him in a different conversation, asking how Jenny was, if his father was still working at the gallery, basically anything to stir them out of this awkward stretch, when to her surprise, and maybe even a little bit to his, he cut her off. "Look, Serena. I…I can't care less about where you choose to study or go or live."

Serena's blue eyes widened.

"Yes, we dated. Yes, we broke up. And yes, we probably should've parted in better terms, but, well, you see, the thing is…I like you. Always have and always will. And now that you're back in the city for good, I could use another friend, you know? God knows Blair needs one or else she wouldn't have hidden you like she did. So I guess what I'm trying to say here is…friends?"

Relief—no, more than that—flooded Serena's face. Not particularly known for her eloquence, she broke out into one of her most dazzling smiles and cried, "Yes! Please! Friends!"

Dan laughed out loud and surrendered to her warm and giddy embrace.

* * *

><p>"And how are you this evening, <em>Mata Hari<em>?"

Blair swallowed nervously, dreading the inevitable encounter. Just as she expected, he was leaning on the bar beside her, a challenging, if not slightly amused, grin on his face.

"Tell me, should I expect any other surprise appearances tonight? I think two in one night is sufficient, no?"

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Dan," She mumbled, adorably shame-faced. "If it counts for anything, I was just as shocked as you were when I saw Aaron tonight. He's putting up at the penthouse, which means we'll have to share a bathroom again, and I might as well just shoot myself right now to save me the torture." Finding comfort in Dan's chuckle, she worked up to courage to go on. "But about S…I should've warned you about her, Dan. I was going to, really, but we've just been so busy catching up and I didn't think you'd show up tonight and—"

"At ease, soldier," He joked, placing two comforting hands on her shoulder. "I'm not mad at you. Just surprised, that's all."

She bit her lip. "Was it awful? Your conversation with Serena?"

"At first, yes," He nodded musingly, remembering his reaction. "But after we cleared the air, not so much."

Then he looked down at her with lazy, smiling eyes. "At least you have a buddy at Columbia now. And you won't have to drag me to Bendel's all the time anymore."

"Serena or no Serena, you're still shopping with me, Humphrey."

He let out a loud and exaggerated groan in protest, until Blair, who was amused beyond measure, declared that she needed some air. He gladly took her by the arm, and steered her towards the direction of the balcony.

They sat themselves at a nearby bench and, smiling comfortably, Blair lifted each of her legs to place on his lap. He regarded her in amusement.

"How _do_ you walk in these?" He asked, gaping at the strappy, fuchsia contraptions on her feet.

"Easier than you do in that ill-fitting suit!" She retorted.

He chuckled at the crisp rejoinder. "And I was secretly hoping you wouldn't notice."

Her lips curled into a placid smile, as she reclined her head and looked up at the dusky night sky. Dan did the same, feeling relaxed for the first time all week.

"So what should we do now?" He murmured languidly. "I love endangered toads and all, but this party's kind of growing stale."

"Cocktails at the Oak Room, anyone?"

He and Blair looked up to find Serena and Nate approaching them, lazy grins plastered on their faces.

Blair was already nodding enthusiastically at Serena's suggestion, when both Dan and Nate let out a collective groan.

"Veto," the latter grumbled. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Call of Duty' and pizza."

"I second that," Dan said supportively. He hoisted Blair on her feet, ignoring her grumbled protests and wrapped a conspiratorial arm around Nate's shoulders. The girls, of course, lagged behind, piqued and affronted but secretly amused—not that they would ever show it.

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Ago<strong>

The moment he stepped inside her room, Dan was hit with the overwhelming smell of flowers and the urgent speech he had rehearsed on the way to her penthouse flew out of his mind in one breath.

Lots and lots of plump, creamy pink flowers adorned every inch of her room. And these weren't just any flowers, but vases of elaborately arranged peonies, Blair's favorite.

"Did you rob a florist recently?" He managed, his voice higher than he intended.

"No," She said, barely stifling the smile on her face. "They're just from…Chuck."

Dan was aware of a sinking feeling in his gut, followed by something that felt suspiciously like rage. "He's been sending you flowers?"

"Every day of the week," She replied, trying to sound miffed but failing tremendously. "Last week, it was macarons, and the week before that, boxes of Godiva. He's probably the most persistent buffoon I know." She rolled her eyes at this, before finally parking herself in front of Dan and facing him in earnest. "But enough about that, tell me what's wrong. You sounded distressed on the phone."

"Oh, that. Well, it's just…" His voice trailed off, as his eyes distractedly lingered on the ivory card attached to one of the vases. In silent curiosity, he picked it up and flipped it open.

_These aren't nearly as sweet as revenge will be – Your faithful servant, CB._

"What does he mean by '_revenge_?'" Dan suddenly demanded, his impatience mounting more than he'd like to admit. This was just all so unsettling—the flowers, the persistent gifts, the secret messages, that _smile_ on her face.

"What does he mean, Blair?"

For a moment, she looked like a frightened child, as though she had just been caught doing something wrong. Drawing a breath, she said, "OK, fine, but don't get angry."

An apprehensive frown knotted itself between his eyebrows.

"He's helping me with something…"

"With what?"

She bit her lip. "Remember when I apologized to you about the whole Ms. Carr thing and we promised to put it behind us? Well…you see, I've been thinking about it, and since I'm not the first person at Constance-St. Jude's to be screwed over by her, it's kind of like my duty as Queen to—"

"Scheme against her? Haze her? Put her in her place?"

"One could say that…"

Dan groaned. "Blair, this is _such_ a bad idea."

"Chuck doesn't think so!" She blurted out. But when she noticed the shadow that instantly fell over her best friend's face, she hastily added, "And neither do Kati, Is, and Penelope..."

"Since when do their opinions weigh heavier than mine?" He bit out, his body stiffening considerably.

"They don't! Of course, they don't! It's just that I—" her protest was cut short when she decisively pursed her lips and let out a sigh. "Look, can we please not fight right now? I know for a fact that you came over with a different purpose in mind."

They lapsed into angry silence, until Dan succumbed to weakness and broke it. "It's just…_Serena_."

"What happened?"

"I think the better question is 'what _didn't_ happen?' Did you know that she paid someone to take her SATs for her? That all those nights I came over to tutor her, I had just been wasting my time?"

"I know."

"—God, I was _stupid_ to think that she changed! All that bullshit she said about merit and honesty—wait, you _know_?" His eyes flew to hers in disbelief.

"Serena kind of…told me," Blair replied cautiously, imploring him to calm down and sit next to her. When he didn't budge, she let out a weary sigh. "Chuck suggested the whole thing. All he had to do was make a call, and someone took the test for her. She—she freaked out the night before the SATs, Dan."

"We _all _freak out, but that doesn't mean that it's OK to cheat!" He argued crossly. "And whose side are you on anyway? I feel like Chuck and Serena have suddenly become your best friends over night."

Blair winced at the hurt incredulity in his tone. "_You_ are my best friend, Dan—you know that. I'm not taking any sides here and nor am I justifying what Serena did, but…"

"But what?" He demanded.

"Don't you think you expect too much from her sometimes?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

Unperturbed, she knew better than to cower under his heated gaze. "That you're placing her on a pedestal, and it's unfair to her."

"I'm not!"

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"That's _ridiculous_, Blair."

"Is it?"

"I—I…!" Dan looked away, choosing instead to pace across her floor in hot disbelief. Her words rung in his ear, and his mind whirled at the implications of what her simple statement had meant. Even when he finally stopped moving, his eyes were still trained on the floor, as though he were afraid to face the truth.

It was at this point when Blair stood up and reached out for his hand. When he looked up into her eyes, he found a faint smile hidden beneath them. "Unlike Serena, I'm actually used to your self-righteous diatribes."

At these words, Dan sank into deep and gloomy contemplation. Did he really expect too much from people? Was he as judgmental and obstinate as he feared himself to be?

His eyes fell back down at their intertwined hands, "About this Ms. Carr thing—"

"Dan, can we please not talk about that right now?"

"No, just listen," He persevered, tightening his grip on her hand. "I'm not going to lecture you or try to stop you. I already know you've set your mind on it, and God knows when that happens there's no stopping you," He paused to catch the amusement in her eyes. "But promise me you'll be careful? Promise me you won't let Chuck talk you into doing something stupid, regardless of how good he is at scheming?"

He noticed the inklings of a smile on her face, but she pursed her lips just in time. "Only if you'll give Serena a break."

Dan groaned in annoyance, releasing his hold of her.

"So is it a deal or what?" She went on, amusement coloring her voice.

Petulantly, he let out a huff or maybe even two before conceding. "Fine, whatever."

"Perfect!" She clapped her hands in excitement. "Now that that's settled, can we please, _please_ hang out now? I haven't seen you in forever."

Dan frowned. "What do you mean? We hung out last week." But even he knew not seeing her for a week was beyond normal.

"_No_, you, _Serena_ and I hung out last week," She corrected him. "Plus, you skipped out on coffee yesterday because you had brunch with Serena's grandmother."

He cringed, feeling guilty at the hasty text message he sent her yesterday, and, for that matter, all the other excuses he had given her in the past few months.

"Blair, I'm sorr—"

"No, I will not hear it, Humphrey," She declared, waving a dismissive hand at him. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm just being a veritable grump because I miss you."

At this, he grinned at her affectionately and remembered exactly why they were best friends.

"You're in a relationship now," She went on, smiling a little to put him at ease. "And for once, I actually like your choice of girlfriend. S is definitely a step up from that Williamsburg barista you dated last year."

He shot her a playful glare.

"So are we going to hang out or are you going to stand there looking glum all night?

Dan laughed out loud, suddenly brimming with excitement at the thought that they were finally going to spend time together. Just the two of them, just like old times.

"_Tiffany's_ or _Holiday_?"

Instead of answering, Blair quickly pulled him down onto the floor beside her and reached for the DVD remote.

"_The Thin Man_!" He exclaimed, perking up at the TV screen. "We haven't watched this in ages!"

She giggled, as she offered him half of the blanket. Dan flashed her a grateful smile and snuggled next to her, letting the opening credits drown out the silence.

Halfway into the movie, he heard Blair sigh dreamily beside him and murmur, "Isn't Myrna Loy just the most fabulous woman ever?"

Dan tilted his head to gaze at her awed face and chuckled silently because he couldn't help it. There was, he thought, something really distractingly pretty about the way Blair's hair kept falling out of her ponytail. And the way her mouth gaped and her eyes shined whenever she gazed at the TV screen, as though every scene were new to her again. He liked to think that only he got to see the Perfect Blair Waldorf like this—relaxed, approachable, and charmingly human.

"I would marry Myrna Loy in a heartbeat," he said after a while.

Blair snorted, snapping out of her reverie. "_Please_, like you can handle her."

"What are you saying?" He challenged.

"That Myrna Loy is _way_ out of your league. I mean, look at her. She's a knockout with a sharp tongue and a fabulous collection of lulu dresses. Even William Powell can't keep up with her half the time."

"OK, stop right there," Dan interrupted, blatantly aghast. "It's one thing to cast me aside, because, well, let's face it, Myrna Loy would never give me the time of day—" Both he and Blair nodded in agreement. "But to throw a punch at William _freaking_ Powell, her unquestioned equal, her on-screen soul mate, the only actor to have ever matched her level of banter and wit—that's just blasphemous, Waldorf."

Blair bit back a giggle. "OK, fine. So they're kind of perfect together."

"More than that," He insisted, as he thoughtlessly swung an arm around her shoulders. "They were made for each other."

"Do you really believe in that?" She asked, after a pause. "Two people being made for each other?"

Dan gazed into her eyes, the same espresso colored eyes he'd been staring into for years.

"I think I do…" He finally said. "If anything, it's a nice thing to believe in."

That drew a smile from her. "Well, then I hope I find my William Powell soon."

She finally set her eyes back on the TV screen, but Dan was much too amused to let her words go stale.

"Why, is the great Chuck Bass not measuring up?" He joked, playfully nudging her in the ribs.

Blair shot him a scornful look.

"You guys seem to get along pretty well." This time his voice was soft and almost carefully casual, but his eyes bore an intensity that made her blush.

"You…think?" She found herself unconsciously gazing about the room, taking in the view of each and every bouquet of peonies and the bold _**CB **_initials attached to each of them.

"Serena thinks so."

"Well, Serena doesn't exactly display good judgment at all times."

"True." It was his turn to smile now—a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "So you'd never consider Chuck Bass then?"

Dan didn't know why he was pushing it so much, but he simply had to know; and the odd expression in her eyes, which he was at a loss to interpret, didn't help one bit.

"Your phone's ringing," She suddenly whispered. It was breathy and muffled but enough for Dan to know that their conversation had reached its end. With a vague expression on his face, almost akin to dejection, he grabbed his vibrating phone off the floor. It was Serena. He murmured an excuse, before striding towards Blair's bathroom and closing the door behind him.

He sighed before pressing 'Answer.' "Hey Ser—"

"Dan. I'm so, so, so sorry! I know it was awful of me to cheat on that exam but to lie to you, too, I just—"

"Serena!" He said, interrupting her speech with a weary smile. "I'm glad you called."

"You are?" Her voice seemed so surprised that Dan couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Very much," he murmured fondly. "I was a dick. I know how much you want to get into Brown, and well…maybe I'm just old-fashioned, I don't know, but I had no right to get mad at you. It's your life after all, and your future."

"Oh God, now, you're making me feel even worse!"

Relief swept through him. "I love you, Serena. Always have, always will."

"I love you, too," She replied quickly, making his chest swell. "Are you busy right now? Can you come over? I miss my boyfriend."

Dan felt torn. A part of him wanted to stay and spend some much-needed time with Blair, whom he hadn't seen in so long. For more selfish reasons, that same part of him also wanted to extract information from her about Chuck and whether she saw anything in his smarmy advances that warranted mangled speech and flushed cheeks. He scowled at the memory of their conversation earlier.

"Dan?"

At the sound of Serena's voice, Dan quickly cleared his throat, "No, no I'm not busy. I'll be there in a bit."

* * *

><p>"Everything alright with S?" Blair asked, sitting Indian-style on her bed.<p>

"Yeah, we, uhh, made up."

"Can I say 'I told you so' now?"

Dan managed to smirk, despite the dreadful guilt that was building inside him. He sat beside her on her bed, his hands folded in his pockets.

"So what do you want to do now?" She asked, her eyes dancing in amusement. Dan was about to open his mouth to reply, when she beat him to it: "Oh, I could really go for frozen yogurt right now! Or maybe a martini—at the Oak Room! Though I have a feeling Wes Hornsby and his cronies might be there. He's so gross. I have no idea what Kati sees in him. I was just telling her the other day how—"

"I can't," Dan began, but was cut off once more.

"C'mon, he's not that bad. He may be a total slime ball, but his dad _does_ own that cell phone company. And he also has a nice apartment on Fifth—"

"Blair, I promised Serena I'd meet up with her. Like…right now."

No sooner had he uttered these words that he regretted them.

"Oh."

He raked a hand through his hair, trying to avoid her crestfallen look. "I mean, I just think that I should come over, and, you know…"

"You don't have to explain yourself," She insisted, desperately trying to brighten her mood for what he feared was his sake. "I totally understand. She's your girlfriend, and you have to work things out with her. We…we can hang out some other time."

Dan was about to take it all back, when his phone vibrated in his pocket once more. It was Serena—no surprise there. And for the first time, Dan didn't feel the least bit giddy, staring down at her blinking name on his cell phone screen.

"Go," Blair urged him with a warm smile. "Don't keep her waiting."

He held her gaze for a moment, wondering if there was any truth to her words. But it was too late, anyway. Her barriers were already put up, all placid and cool, and so terribly far from the carefree Blair he was used to.

"I'll call you tomorrow then."

With a final squeeze of her hand, Dan finally took his leave.


	6. While You Wait for the Others

_Hello, hello! This one's a wee bit shorter than my usual chapters, but I hope you guys enjoy it all the same! Cheers!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

"No way!"

"I'm _serious_! Leah Vanderbilt was my roommate at Knightley."

"I can't believe you know my cousin! Have you met Tripp, her brother?"

Serena Bass giggled prettily, her head bobbing up and down. "His fiancée Maureen, too!"

"What a _small_ world," Nate Archibald said, his ocean-blue eyes fixed solely on the shining paragon beside him. "It's amazing we didn't manage to cross paths before. Do you know Lucas and Theo?"

"The twins?" She bit her glossy bottom lip in thought. "I think Leah introduced me to them at one of your Vanderbilt reunions."

"You've _been_ to those?"

She giggled again. "Yes, two or maybe three times now. Funny I didn't meet you there. It seems as if I've met everyone in your family but you!"

And that was how the conversation continued for the next hour, leaving Blair—poor, poor Blair—to nurse her skinny vanilla latte in silence. Wearily, she drummed her nails on the table and tried not to expire from sheer boredom.

She and Serena were supposed to be at Intermix right now, she thought disgruntledly. She could be trying on that navy Helmut Lang double-silk long dress, the one she had been eyeing for weeks, instead of being forced to sit here and listen to a conversation so mind-numbingly boring it would have tried the patience of a saint.

But _noooo_, they just _had_ to run into Nate, this city, of course, being the approximate size of a walnut. Blair thought he would have bolted at the prospect of shopping with them—Dan certainly would have—but, to her surprise, he readily agreed to accompany them. And Nate's generous disposition didn't end there. He even offered to buy them lunch, which, if the empty café was any indication, had ended approximately two hours ago. Two, long tedious hours ago. Blair stifled a yawn.

Serena, God bless her, was still listening rather rapturously to one of Nate's lacrosse stories. God knew he had hundreds of those. It just surprised her that Serena was actually interested in them. There she was, failing to contain her excitement, her full attention devoted to Nate. If Blair didn't know better, she would have deemed Serena an excellent actress.

But Blair did know better. And as awful as it sounded, a part of her couldn't help but relish the thought that she had finally found someone who could take the drudgery of having to listen to Nate off her shoulders.

Blair winced. That _did_ sound awful. She _liked_ Nate; she really did. She was certainly attracted to him, for what female in her right mind wouldn't be? His looks were ineffably striking, and his manners, a testament to a lifetime of good ol' WASPy breeding.

It's just that…well, _sometimes_ he could be a dead bore. He never talked about anything of real significance; he wouldn't even _dream_ of contradicting her. Nate was just too good-natured, too _maddeningly_ complaisant, as though he were a lump of clay she could mold into any shape she wanted!

Racked with guilt, Blair winced once more. She could be perfectly wretched sometimes. And, not to mention, ungrateful. Hadn't she learned anything from last year? She already dated the polar opposite of Nate, and what did she end up with? A bruised and fractured heart. Boring as he may be, a great guy like Nate was _precisely_ what she needed.

Resting her chin on her hand, Blair was about to order another croissant, when her phone suddenly rang. The surge of relief that passed through her was so powerful that Nate and Serena looked up at her in surprise. Without bothering to hide her giddiness, she stood up abruptly and excused herself.

"DAN!"

"Um…hello to you, too."

"Sorry," Blair said, giggling breathlessly. "I've just been _bored_ out of my mind."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Shopping with S. Or we had been, at least…until we ran into Nate."

Dan chuckled over the phone. "I'm going to hazard a guess that Nate isn't the ideal shopping buddy."

"Believe it or not, he's worse than you," Blair said with a smirk. "Have you called to save me?"

"Not quite. I was hoping _you_ could save me actually."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, does Dan Humphrey need saving from?"

"This cold war between Aaron and my sister," He replied dryly. "The tension's so thick here in the gallery, it's almost suffocating. I just don't get it. They used to be so close before—practically attached at the hip. And now, for some reason, it's all cold silence and steely demeanors."

"Well, I don't blame Jenny one bit," Blair asserted snootily. "Aaron's _painfully_ dull. And he reeks of his stupid herbal cigarettes all the time. Dorota, the poor thing, has to air out his room twice a day."

Dan laughed. "What an affectionate stepsister you make, Blair Waldorf. So are you going to help me escape or what?"

"Well, what do you have in mind?"

He paused for a moment to think. "How soon can you meet me at the Guggenheim?"

"As soon as I make up an excuse to give S and Nate. Although I don't think that'll be too difficult. They probably haven't even noticed that I left. Were you thinking of the Kadinski exhibit?"

"The very one. See you in twenty?"

"On the dot." Grinning, she dropped her cell phone back into her purse. Salvation never tasted so sweet. As she made her way back to their table, she was surprised to find Nate all by himself.

"Where's S?"  
>"Phone call," He said with an easy smile. "You, girls, sure know how to shatter a guy's self-esteem, abandoning me at every chance you get."<p>

Blair grinned. "Was it anyone important?"

"Nah, just her stepbrother, I think. Some guy named _Chuck_?"

Blair dropped her mug on the table so hard, drops of coffee spilled on the polished wood.

"You OK?" Nate asked, noticing her suddenly pale face.

"I…I have to go," She breathed out, utterly stricken.

"What?"

"I have to go," Blair said more forcefully.

Nate continued to stare at her. "Uh, OK…sure, do you want me to grab you a cab—"

"No, no you stay here, I-I'm fine."

"Blair, you don't look fine."

Ignoring him, she hastily scrambled to her feet and grabbed her things. "I am, really. Just tell Serena that I—"

"Tell Serena what?"

Blair swung around to find herself face-to-face with Serena herself, who was smiling at her in confused amusement.

"Nothing! Just that I—I can't do shopping today," Blair lied, ignoring the way Serena frowned at her. "Dan—promised I'd meet up with him. Hate to be late, so, um, bye. See you guys at school."

With those final words, Blair swept past her blatantly unconvinced friend and didn't stop walking until she was outside in the open street. She had already managed to hail a cab, when she heard Serena suddenly burst out of the restaurant and call out: "Blair! Wait!"

Blair didn't dare turn around to face her. In a moment of weakness, her whole body gave in to paralysis, and God, did it kill her to know that. To know that he could still have that effect on her.

"He's coming back," Serena said quietly, as though she were reading Blair's mind at that moment. "Just for Thanksgiving. I…I thought you should know."

A nod—that was all Blair could give her, before she quickly stepped into her cab and tried desperately not to fall apart.

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Ago<strong>

"Oh, come on, you were so cute. Of course, my mom loves you."

"Really? It was a little awkward yesterday, when you told her how we met…"

"Serena, she _adores _you. Who in their right mind wouldn't? Blair, please tell Serena that she's overreacting."

"Serena, you're overreacting," The brunette deadpanned, trying not to show her irritation.

"Really? You guys aren't just saying that?"

"Of course, we're not just saying that! You're the cutest, loveliest, most charming—"

"I'm going to get another drink. Do you guys want anything?"

Without bothering to wait for a reply, Blair left their table in a silent fit of pique. She parked herself by the bar, ironically finding comfort in her solitude when she had spent the better half of the evening, being ignored and forgotten.

Blair groaned. She should've known better not to come out tonight. Sure, a couple of drinks at Bar Pleiades seemed innocent enough. She had scarcely seen Dan all week, and she loved Serena like a sister. What could possibly go wrong?

_Everything!_ Blair screamed in her head. Previous experience should've taught her to trust her instincts by now. Spending any length of time with Serena and Dan was just doomed to failure, or at least outbursts of resentment on Blair's part.

She loved them; she really did. But together, they had a way of making her feel utterly invisible, unimportant, _forgettable_. And that by no means was Blair's idea of an ideal evening.

"Well, well, well if it isn't my _lucky_ day."

Startled, Blair turned to her side to find Chuck Bass standing next to her.

"Don't tell me someone as delectable as you are is forced to be the third wheel tonight," Chuck said, taking her scowl as invitation. He, like always, was dressed ostentatiously; this time, in a bold maroon suit put-off by a salmon colored pocket square. At such close proximity, Blair caught a whiff of his cologne—a rich, musky scent that said a lot—too much perhaps—about its owner.

But Chuck Bass' charms were still no match for Blair Waldorf.

"I'm not a third wheel," She said in a prickly tone, lifting her chin contemptuously. When his amused gaze didn't waver, she pursed her lips. "OK, fine, so maybe I am. Have you come to torture me then?"

"The opposite actually," He murmured. "I'm here to save you. I even come bearing gifts."

Blair rolled her eyes in disgust. "What, more chocolates? More peonies? My doorman is this close to quitting by the way."

Grinning, he merely placed a sealed manila envelope on the bar.

"What is this?"

"Open it," He said, as he casually ordered her a refill and, for himself, a scotch with no ice.

Rolling her eyes, she tore the seal and stuffed her hand inside, ready to unearth whatever was putting that smug smile on his face. And then her mouth fell open in shock.

They were photos. Lots of photos.

"Is that—is that _Ms. Carr_?"

"In a compromising position with a parent? Yes, I believe it is."

Blair looked up and stared at him, breathless. "Where did you get these?"

"My private investigator."

Her mind still reeling, Blair gazed back down at the photos. It was Ms. Carr, sitting on a man's lap. Ms. Carr being kissed passionately. Ms. Carr with a beefy hand resting on her scandalously bare thigh.

"But…" Blair said, suddenly feeling very sick. "That's Marlayna Anderson's dad. He's—he's _married_. His wife's the head of the parent's association. He has a family!"

"Not for long, if Mrs. Anderson can help it," Chuck droned, swirling the scotch in his glass. "But we digress. I suggest you send these pictures to your headmistress at once and Ms. Carr will be as good as fired."

"I don't want to get her fired!" Blair exclaimed, hastily stuffing the pictures back into the envelope. "I-I just want to teach her a lesson! A tiny lesson that will remind her who holds the reins at school. No, no, you have to take these away."

"And what do you plan to do instead?"

"Well, I…" She drew a breath and composed herself. "Ms. Carr's a big Opera fan."

"_Wonderful_."

Ignoring his impertinence, she grudgingly went on, "I'm just going to _kindly_ invite her out for dinner and a night at the Opera, and then, you know, stand her up, so that she can look like the fool that she is."

"How very high school of you," Chuck drawled in bored dismay. "Why don't you just steal her lunch money and get it over with?"

Blair narrowed her eyes at him. "I only take down people who deserve it, Chuck."

He held her gaze for a moment before breaking out into a smirk. "This is his doing, isn't it?"

"Whose doing?"

Chuck darted a lazy glance at Dan, who was still conversing intimately with Serena.

"What does Dan have anything to do with it?" Blair demanded, her defensive side kicking in.

"Just that he's holding you back," Chuck replied, barely stifling a yawn. "We both know that if it weren't for _Mr. Self-Righteous_, you'd be using that pretty, little head of yours to its full potential."

"You mean, to destroy people's lives," she clarified grimly.

Sighing, he tilted his head back towards her. "Haven't you ever heard of 'an eye for an eye?' Ms. Carr crossed you, and now she has to pay."

"Not in that way," She argued, her hands balling into fists. "Not if it means destroying her life."

"Why are you even getting your La Perlas in a bunch?" Chuck muttered with a touch of impatience. "It's not like she's Mother Theresa or anything. She's an adulterer, a home wrecker. And Doug Anderson deserves to be called out all the same."

When Blair didn't respond, he rolled his eyes and hissed, "Christ, this _is_ his doing."

"Dan has nothing to do with this! And at any rate, I'm offended that you think me so heartless—"

"_Ruthless_, not heartless. Don't you see? We're cut from the same cloth, Waldorf. When we want something, we don't stop for anyone or anything, until we get it. But unlike you, I don't have unwanted baggage weighing me down."

Blair blushed, trembling in indignation. "That's my best friend you're talking about! And if anything is "unwanted" here, it's you and your creepy envelope of photos!"

Chuck was about to form his own retort, when his eyes darted up to discern who was approaching. And then his lips curled into a perfectly icy smirk.

"Humphrey," He greeted, giving Dan a sardonic salute. "I see you've finally remembered that Blair existed."

If Dan was pissed, he didn't show it. Instead, he ignored Chuck altogether and turned to Blair in concern.

"You OK?" He asked, his eyes searching her face.

"Peachy," Chuck murmured insolently, before Blair could even put in a word. And then to Dan's growing chagrin, he edged closer toward her and dropped a lascivious kiss on her hand. "Waldorf, it was a pleasure running into you. I do hope you enjoy my _gift_."

With that, he turned and walked out of the bar, feeling smug after what was clearly a victory on his part.

"What was that about?" Dan demanded, angrily watching Chuck's departing form.

"Nothing," Blair responded dismissively, the frown still on her face. "I just have official proof that Chuck Bass is a perv."

Dan bristled. "Blair, did—did he hurt you?"

"No!" She exclaimed, blushing furiously. "Of course not! He just had his P.I.—well, here. Take a look for yourself." She handed him the envelope.

Dan's mouth fell open in shock. "Jesus…is that—that can't possibly be…"

"Ms. Carr with Marlayna Anderson's dad? Yes, I'm afraid it is," Blair said with a sigh. "And to think I publicly berated Marlayna for wearing those godawful leggings to school last week. I'm _really_ going to burn in hell now."

Dan looked at her incredulously. "Don't tell me you're actually going to use these. Blair, Christ, this isn't some innocent prank anymore. This is a person's career! Her life! His family!"

"I know, I know," She said in a weary, if not impatient, voice. "I already told Chuck I wouldn't use them. I may be vindictive but I'm notsinister."

Mollified, he let out a breath. "Good. Remind me to strangle Chuck the next time I see him, will you?"

With that said, he cast her a mildly rebuking look, the kind an amused parent would give an errant child, and then walked back to their table, leaving Blair—furious and outraged Blair—to seethe in silent indignation. _Good? GOOD? _Could he _be _more patronizing?

Angrily, she downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass on the bar.

Maybe Chuck was right.


	7. Baby, We'll Be Fine

_Wow. It is embarrassing how long it took me to finish this. To all the readers who left me comments and reminders, I am soooo sorry! I have been bombarded with work/school for the last couple of months so I've been unable to write. _

_But rest assured, I will finish this fic…even if it kills me! _

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

Rufus Humphrey stared wearily at the state of his kitchen. Everywhere he looked, he saw scattered pots and pans, grocery bags crammed with food, open cookbooks strewn across his normally uncluttered kitchen table. He may not have been particularly known for being the neatest person in the world (his years as an 80s rock star were proof of that), but the kitchen—well, that was sacred. That was his _sanctuary_.

Sensing that her ex-husband was going to have a seizure at any moment, Allison Humphrey quite correctly pulled her son and his best friend to the side and spoke in a low voice, "Blair, honey, you _really_ didn't have to go through all this trouble."

Blair gazed up at Dan's mom with all the innocence she could muster. "What trouble?"

The blonde, slender woman pursed her lips.

"Well, for starters, you didn't have to buy four kinds of crème fraîche or," she swept a convincing arm around the kitchen, "six crates of red wine, all of Julia Child's cookbooks..."

"_In other words, _the entire Dean & Deluca," Her son finished off dryly.

Blair glared at them both. "It's _Thanksgiving_. You know the saying: the more, the merrier."

When Allison left to placate her frantic ex-spouse once more, Dan took the opportunity to properly scrutinize his best friend. Something wasn't right here, and he intended to get to the bottom of Blair's strange and fidgety mood.

"Are you not telling me something?" He asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She suddenly appeared to be absorbed with the folds of her sherbet Calvin Klein dress. "Hmm?"

_Yup. Something is definitely up_.

"You've been acting weird all week…ever since we visited the Kandinsky exhibit."

She still remained tight-lipped, but it was obvious she was unraveling under his scrutiny.

"_And_, whenever something bothers you, you tend to max out your credit cards."

Irritated, her eyes finally met his. "Is it so bad that I want to spend my favorite holiday like a king?"

"Or a Queen, you mean," Aaron Rose suddenly announced, as he entered the loft with a boyish grin. "Smells good in here, Rufus." He dropped a generous kiss on Allison's cheek, greeted everyone within sight a "Happy Thanksgiving," and then stopped in his tracks, when he caught sight of all the grocery bags in the kitchen.

"Good God, are we feeding all of Brooklyn?"

Dan cracked a traitorous smile. "Blair, uhhh, went a little _crazy_ with the shopping this year."

Aaron snuck a glance at his stepsister. "Christ, sis, at this rate, you're going to bankrupt the Rose's."

"_Waldorf_-Rose's," She enunciated sharply. "And don't call me 'sis!' It's bad enough people think we're related."

Aaron merely rolled his eyes and plopped down on the Humphreys' leather couch. "Whatever, _sis_."

To both Allison and Rufus' relief, Blair's biting retort was cut short, when the door to the loft was flung open once more, and Eleanor, Jenny and Cyrus walked in.

"Jenny, darling, you have to stop all this fussing! The collection's going marvelously! You saw Nanette and Tory's faces—practically seething with _envy_. Oh, Rufus, Allison—everything here smells divine!" And then, all three newcomers stopped in the middle of the apartment, jaws slackened.

"You, er, went a trifle overboard with the shopping, no?" Eleanor Waldorf-Rose remarked with unfailing politeness.

"Jenny!" Blair exclaimed, deliberately ignoring the snickering men beside her. "Just the person I was looking for!"

She pulled the gaping blonde to the side and looked at her determinedly.

"Have you gone over the list of potential escorts Dorota sent you?"

"Escorts?" Dan and Aaron echoed in confusion.

Jenny winced. "B, I really don't want to get into this…"

"_This_," Blair said in a tone of deep censure,_ "_is your Cotillion, Little J."

Upon hearing the dreaded C-word, Dan let out a loud groan. "Oh, God, not _that_ again."

She shot him a scowl from over her shoulder. "Cotillion is the single most important event in every girl's life."

"What it is," He proclaimed just as adamantly, "is antiquated and ridiculous. It's a chance for people to spend all this money to have their daughters—"

"'_Basically dance in front of others for attention_,'" Jenny and Blair finished in deadpanned unison.

Aaron nearly choked on his beer, while the parents, who were ensconced in the kitchen but were close enough to follow the conversation, bit back amused smiles. Blair, of course, was enjoying Dan's discomfiture immensely.

"Wait, weren't you Blair's escort that night?" Aaron asked, the moment he recovered.

"Yeah, unofficially," Dan suddenly grinned, staring straight at her. "I was summoned halfway into the evening, when a certain _damsel-in-distress_ could no longer bear the company of her painfully dreary date."

"The Prince of Monaco was _not_ dreary!"

"Blair, no amount of valium could've put me to sleep faster than he did."

Jenny burst out laughing. "Oh my God, I totally remember now! Didn't you go to that 24-hour Rent-A-Tux place? And by the time you arrived at the ball, Blair's face was—her face was—"

"_Priceless_!" Aaron burst out, barely containing himself."Man, how you could've picked _that _tux, I'll never understand."

"Yeah, laugh all you want," Dan snapped, his ears reddening. "But neither of you had to spend a whole night, listening to some powerless monarch yap about the most boring—"

"If anyone has the right to complain here, it's me!" Blair interjected, her face red with indignation. "_I_ had to spend the second half of my Cotillionstanding next to someone in a zoot suit!"

"That was not a zoot suit! I paid good money for that tux!"

Blair let out a long sigh, before finally giving up and turning her attention back to his sister. "So have you decided yet?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow, her face still flushed from laughing. "On what?"

"On who your escort is going to be!"

The blonde girl's face suddenly fell. "Oh, right. See, the thing is, B, I don't think I want to bring anyone."

"_Jenny_!" Blair gasped, utterly horrified.

"Here she goes," Dan muttered with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"B, really, it's not a big deal—"

"_Ohhhhhh _no!Uh-uh!No way!"

"But—"

Blair thrust a commanding hand at her. "I have _learned_ to accept your 'Chuckie's Bride' get-up, your penchant for raccoon make-up, your insistence in shopping at thrift stores—"

"Excuse me!" Jenny cut in, looking every bit offended.

"—But I absolutely draw the line on you going to Cotillion stag!" The brunette finished passionately. "You're Queen at Constance for Christ's sake! Every person at school looks up to you—_fears_ you! But if you're debuted in that ballroom without an eligible bachelor on your arm, mark my words, you will be a pariah by the end of the night!"

Jenny groaned and buried her face into her hands.

"At least take Eric!"

"He's already promised to Kira Abernathy."

Blair grimaced. "Really? With her skin type?"

"Blair!"

"Sorry, sorry. What about Eric's boyfriend, Jonathan? The one who goes to Trinity? Isn't his uncle a senator?"

"Eloise snagged him last week."

"One of your minions got to him before you did?" Blair asked in disgust. "God, this is worse than I thought."

Jenny let out another groan.

"Well, what do you want me to say? Cotillion's just around the corner and you _still_ don't have a date." Frowning, Blair stood up and began pacing the living room. "OK. We can fix this. Pass me the list of potentials Dorota sent you."

"B, it's hopeless. I've already gone over that list, and they all suck."

"Even Keith Richards?"

Jenny shot her a long look. "He had one original thought last year. It died of loneliness."

"Travis Yonge?"

"Smells like lozenges."

"Lewis Shepley?"

"His name is a deterrent in itself."

"Fine, what about Damian Dalgaard?"

This shut the blonde up.

"Damian's on the list?" She asked, grabbing the sheet from Blair's grasp.

Blair smiled, looking entirely pleased with herself. "His dad's a diplomat, you know. And his mom's a member of the Colony Club, too. Didn't he dance with you at the Snowflake ball last month?"

Jenny nodded sheepishly.

"Well, then it's obvious he'd be more than willing to escort you."

"But it was just one dance…"

"Everyone knows he's been eyeing you for months, Little J."

"He has?" Jenny asked, her cheeks growing red.

"Besotted is the word I'd use," Blair cajoled, her eyes briefly meeting Dan's.

By no means a stranger to that calculating gleam in her eyes, he beamed at her in fond amusement.

"So what's the verdict, Jen? Is Damian going to be your escort?"

"Well…I suppose he'll do—"

"_No_," Aaron blurted out, suddenly getting up from his chair. All eyes turned towards him, as a wave of confused silence hung over the room.

"What do you mean _no_?" Jenny demanded, her demeanor having gone icy.

Aaron merely shrugged with some of the haughty Waldorf air that rubbed off on him over the years. "The guy's a complete jerk."

"I'm sorry but since when were you a part of this conversation?" Blair asked impatiently.

His lips pursed into a thin, grim line. "The guy is bad news. Everyone knows that."

"Haven't you heard a single thing I just said? He has a dad for a diplomat and a socialite for a mother. On top of that, he's a straight-A student with nice hair. He's more than eligible."

"Jenny is not going to be escorted by Damian Dalgaard, and that's final."

That was apparently all Jenny could take, before she abruptly got on her feet and sent him a venomous glare. "Excuse me? Whom I choose to take to my Cotillion is hardly your business, Aaron."

Blair's stepbrother leaned closer until his livid face was just a few inches from Jenny's. "You're making a huge mistake."

"Well, it's my mistake to make," She snapped back. "Blair, pass me your phone."

Aaron stared at her in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"Giving Damian a call," She replied nonchalantly, and then began scrolling through Blair's contact list.

"What the—"

Every mouth in the room fell open in shock as Aaron snatched the phone from Jenny's grasp.

"Give me back the phone!"

"Hell no!"

"OK, what is going on over here?" Allison Humphrey demanded, as she and the rest of the parents drew closer in concern.

Blair and Dan could only shake their heads, still riveted by the sight of Aaron holding off Jenny's determined hands.

"Have you gone completely insane?" Jenny shrieked back.

"I'm not insane, damn it!"

"Then give me back the phone!"

"Uhhh…you guys?" Dan spoke up uncertainly.

"Would you just stop?" Aaron finally bit out. "If you haven't noticed, I'm saving you—yes, saving you—from making a foolish decision!"

At this, Jenny's mouth fell. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping. And then to everyone's surprise, she let out a harsh and mirthless laugh. "Ohhh, yes, _now_ I get it!"

Aaron stopped what he was doing to stare at her.

"That's what this is, isn't it? Only _you _can make the decisions here, is that it? Only _you_ can decide to call things off whenever you feel like it, regardless of other people's feelings—_my_ feelings. God forbid poor, naïve, little J has something to say."

"Jenny…"

"Haven't you done enough?" She begged, as a sudden wave of weariness overtook her. "Just please…please do me a favor and leave me alone." With a quivering lip, she ran into her room and slammed the door shut. It wasn't long before Aaron took his leave as well, mumbling something about needing a smoke.

"OK, what the hell was that?" Dan asked, the moment he and Blair were alone. "Is everyone just acting weird today or what?"

"I can't believe I've never noticed it before," she said in a dazed voice.

He looked at her as though she had gone crazy.

"Noticed what? You actually managed to make sense out of all this?"

"Yeah, didn't you?"

"I _avoid _my sister's outbursts, not analyze them."

"Oh…well, this is kind of awkward." She gave him a pitying look. "I don't know how to tell you this, Dan, but…um, they're kind of doing it.

"Who's kind of doing…" Slowly, _painfully_, her words sunk in, and like some terrible nightmare, it all began to make sense.

"Dan—"

"_Jenny and Aaron_?" He burst into outrage. "_Together_? This whole time? That's crazy!"

"Not as crazy as you think. And we both know my sexual tension radar is unparalleled."

"I'm going to kill the guy," He said suddenly.

A giggle bubbled out of her. "They actually make a cute couple, you know."

"Are you serious? She's still in high school! And he's—he's _Aaron! _Christ, he's like a brother to her!"

"She already has a brother."

"You know what I mean!"

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To knock some sense into her!" He shouted in exasperation.

Blair merely rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Mount Vesuvius, and let me handle this."

* * *

><p>"Hey, are you OK?"<p>

"I just want to be alone."

"No, you don't," Blair declared, as she and Dan barged into Jenny's room without ceremony. "What you want is a hug. And some famous Waldorf pumpkin pie."

When Jenny showed no sign of accepting the plate in her hand, Blair let out a soft sigh and said, "How long have you been in love with him?"

This time, Jenny looked up, her face pale with surprise. "H-how did you know?"

"Blair has a gift, apparently," Dan muttered dryly. "So are you going to tell us the truth or do I have to beat it out of Aaron? You know I will."

His sister looked away, her cheeks flushed pink. "We…began dating last year. But I guess I've always…I've been in love with him, since the first day I met him."

"You were only eleven!" Dan couldn't resist blurting out.

Equipped with far more tact, Blair swung a comforting arm around Jenny's shoulders and smiled at her encouragingly. "Oh, _Little J_. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," She said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "You wouldn't have understood."

"What do you mean?"

"You're dating Nate Archibald. You brought the Prince of Monaco to Cotillion. You were Chuck Bass' first girlfriend. You've never been with someone _normal_, someone you've known for a good chunk of your life. I-I don't know. I can't explain it. It's like—if you and Dan dated!"

The room grew so quiet that Dan swore the pounding in his heart could be heard by everyone present.

"_Now_ do you see what I mean? You guys are practically siblings. That would be like incest on every level."

A deep blush covered his neck as he desperately avoided Blair's gaze. Seething, he pondered all the ways he could wring his sister's neck.

"But it doesn't matter now anyway," Jenny continued on a blind and miserable note. "We broke up before he left for Rhode Island. Conveniently for him. He said he wanted to make it easy for me, so I wouldn't be saddled with a long-distance relationship, but we all know he ended things so he could sleep with every tattooed, hipster skank at RISD."

"Is that what you really think?" Aaron stood by the open doorway, his normally passive eyes smoldering.

"I thought I told you to leave," Jenny said threateningly.

He didn't budge. He didn't even blink. "Is that why you've barely said a word to me this whole time?"

Boldly, she stood up. She folded her arms and stared down at him like the queen Blair taught her to be. "Well, you haven't exactly made it easy, when all you do is avoid me."

"_Jenny_." Dan's eyes widened at the longing in Aaron's voice. Had his friend always looked this tortured? "I meant everything I told you last summer. I _do_ want you to be happy, to enjoy the rest of high school without some jealous boyfriend a hundred miles away."

She gave a snort of disgust. "Yes, so that you yourself would be free to date all the Chelsea's and Amanda's at RISD, I know."

"No!" He exclaimed frantically. "God, Jen, how can you even think that? These last couple of months have been _hell_. Do you know how much I've missed you? How much I've wanted to just give up and be the selfish prick that I am so I could force you to be with me?"

In just two steps, Dan's baby sister was suddenly wrapped in Aaron's passionate arms, and Dan—well, Dan felt ready to heave on his baby sister's bedroom floor.

In fact, he was so wrapped up in disgust that it took him a while to realize that Blair was tugging at his elbow.

"Come on. Let's go."

He stared at her bewilderedly. "Where?"

"To give the lovebirds some space, unless you want to stay and watch?"

"Good God, no." Abruptly, he got on his feet. He was more than ready to rid his eyes of the lovesick image his sister and friend made. However, when he followed Blair to his room and then watched her close the door behind them, he felt decidedly uncomfortable again.

They both sank down on his bed, not quite meeting each other's eyes. "Er…about what Jenny said back there…well, you know how girls her age are like, filled with crazy ideas."

An odd look crossed Blair's face. "Yes, crazy."

"I mean, you and me," He went on, chuckling uncomfortably, "that's like…well, not to say that I haven't thought about—I mean, especially after that time…but, well, you know…"

"Yes, I...I know." Her cheeks turned bright red.

God, he was going to kill his sister for this. Right after he pummeled her new boyfriend, that was.

"Well then…" His voice trailed off, grasping for a change of subject. "Now that we've concluded another, er, action-packed holiday"—Understatement of the century—"I suppose you're free to tell me what's been bothering you all week."

"Nothing has been—"

"And don't think of giving me one of your famous speeches of denial," He interrupted with mock censure. "You've had that troubled crease above your eyebrow all week. I'll have nothing but the truth from you, Waldorf."

She stared at him for a moment, the emotion in her eyes inexplicably veiled. And then she let out a sigh, as though she were too weary to care.

"Chuck's back."

Out of all the things that took him by surprise that day, this had to be the worst. Instinctively, his hands balled into fists, and his room—this apartment, this _city_—suddenly felt stifling.

"Are…are you OK?" He asked, his jaw impossibly tense. He knew his words sounded stupid the moment he voiced them, but Blair didn't seem to mind. She didn't even seem to notice.

"He's in this city. At the Palace, no doubt."

The dread in her voice made him feel sick to his stomach.

"For how long?"

"Just for Thanksgiving." Then, she let out a laugh so miserable that it punctured his heart.

"I don't know why I'm getting so worked up about this," she said, her voice shrill. "He's only here for a couple of days, but, still, to know that I could just run into him at any time…it terrifies me. And I hate that. You know I do. I never used to be so weak before."

"I won't let him hurt you again."

The fierceness in Dan's voice surprised him just as much as it did her. He was not normally a violent person; a writer at heart, he preferred words to fists. But if there was one thing that could stir him to such primitive and bloodthirsty action it was the image of Blair's heart-stricken face.

_Christ._ It still gnawed at him to remember how utterly devastated she looked, when he found her sprawled on the floor of her fancy Italian hotel room, her eyes swollen with tears, an air of shattered hysteria about her. Several months had passed since that day, but the image remained vivid in his mind. It wasn't something that could be easily forgotten.

"Listen to me," He said with a kind of urgency that made her look up. "You're not weak. You're strong and lovely and incredibly intelligent. This is probably several months too late but, Blair, I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry. I wish I had been there for you when…when—"

"Dan—"

"No, hear me out. If I hadn't been so damn hung up on Serena—hell, with all my petty problems last year, I would've been there for you, _really _there for you, like I should've been from the start."

Blair's bottom lip trembled, but thankfully she didn't pull her gaze away. "I was horrid to you, too, Dan. Perfectly horrid."

"You're always perfectly horrid to me."

He wasn't quite prepared for the shove she directed at his ribs.

"Really? You're making a joke right now?" She sniffed.

"Joke? Who said anything about a joke?" And then he grimaced, when she landed another unladylike blow. "Ouch! Jesus, woman, you'll leave a bruise."

Adorably torn between laughter and misery, she inched closer and let her head fall on his shoulder. "Oh, Dan, what am I gonna do?"

"You, my dear," He murmured, as he savored the rosy scent of her hair, "will enjoy the rest of your favorite holiday…with a slice of your favorite pie, with your favorite person in the entire world."

"Harry Winston?"

He shot her a side-glance. "I'll let that one slide."

"And if I run into Chuck?"

"Not possible. As far as I know, you and I will be holed up at the Walter Reade Theatre all weekend, watching pre-Code screwball comedies, until we're sick of Katharine Hepburn's harebrained schemes and Ladurée's macarons or croissants or whatever it is you Upper Eastsiders eat. Mark my words: Chuck Bass will be but a bad, distant memory once I'm through with you."

She let out a husky laugh, her real laugh, and a warm feeling spread throughout his chest. He could very well spend the rest of his life basking in that rich, vibrant sound.

"I should probably apologize to Rufus for bombarding his kitchen," she said after a while, a slightly remorseful smirk playing on her lips. She stood up from his bed and walked towards the door.

"But, Dan?" She looked over her shoulder to meet his warm gaze. "Thanks."

He was still smiling even after she quietly stepped out and closed the door behind her. _Strong, lovely, and incredibly intelligent._ That was his Blair.

Suddenly, his phone beeped inside his pocket. Lazily, he reached for it, wondering who was miserable enough to send him a text message on Thanksgiving.

And then he froze.

"_**Free your schedule next week. I just finished reading your manuscript. We have a lot of to talk about. -NS**_"

It was from Noah Shapiro.

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

Dan kept a fixed gaze at his phone, willing it to ring. Nothing. No missed calls. No new text messages. No new anything.

He gritted his teeth.

"Dan!"

Startled, he lifted his head to look at Blair, who was glaring at him in exasperation. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Uh…no, sorry, Blair." Wearily, he pocketed his phone and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "What were you saying?"

"Headmistress Queller isn't answering my calls," She whispered agitatedly, her head bent in fear that Cyrus or her mother would overhear. "I've left her ten voicemail messages now and God knows how many e-mails. I'm going crazy."

The obvious distress in her voice caused his eyes to widen. "Hey, hey, you have to calm down. Queller's just pissed because you stood Ms. Carr up at the Opera last week. Not your best work, might I add, but what's done is done. Everything will blow over eventually, you'll see."

"But—"

"No buts, Blair. I mean it. At this rate, you'll worry yourself to an early grave."

Thinking that settled, he grabbed his phone from his pocket once more and checked for any new messages. Not a single one. He frowned.

"So, when do you think this seder will end?"

Blair didn't immediately respond. In fact, all she did was stare. She stared directly at him, as though she couldn't quite believe it was he she was talking to.

"Blair?"

"Not anytime soon," Her voice was abnormally quiet and her face, void of emotion. "We're still in the Karpas. Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking of heading over to Serena's," He said slowly, wondering at her sudden mood change. Blair had been having a lot of those lately. "She has a couple of her old Knightley friends over, and I don't like the sound of it."

"Isn't Serena free to hang out with whomever she pleases?"

His mouth fell slightly at the attack. "Yes, she is. But I don't trust people like Georgina or Carter. They're bad news."

"They're her friends."

"_Were_ her friends. Back when she was still the old Serena."

"So your plan is to show up to her home and act as chaperone?" Blair didn't even bother to hide the derision in her voice.

_Don't snap_, He ordered himself._ Blair is not herself today. Just change the subject and then sneak out of this damn seder at the earliest opportunity._

"Look, never mind," He said with as much diplomacy as he could muster. "Forget I said anything. You can't possibly understand after all."

"Well, it seems neither can you," she snapped back, her chin titled on a stubborn angle.

His jaw tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't keep having this conversation with you!" she whispered loud enough to cause the other guests' heads to swivel around. "Either you trust Serena or you don't! Either you accept her for who she is—Georgina and Carter included—or you break up with her! It's not that hard."

"How can you even suggest that?" He demanded incredulously. "I love her, Blair. _Love_."

"I'm perfectly aware of that. Now, if you'll excuse me." Noisily, she got on her feet and turned towards her stepfather. "Cyrus, do you mind if I sit the Karpas out? My head aches terribly."

"Oh, not at all, my dear. Not at all," the old man replied, concern automatically marring his features. "You go right up, and we'll have Dorota brew you some tea. Come down when you feel better."

"Thank you, I will." She murmured polite goodbyes to her mother and the Humphrey's, before finally taking her leave. Dan couldn't help noticing (with great annoyance) that she steered clear of him altogether.

"What was that all about?" Jenny whispered in an accusatory voice, the moment Blair was no longer within earshot.  
>Dan gritted his teeth in irritation. "None of your business."<p>

"Oh, yes it is! It's my business when my brother decides to act like an insensitive jerk to one of my closest friends."

"If anyone was insensitive here, it was Blair, and she knows it. So if you mind, I'd like to enjoy Passover in peace—"

"You weren't even there," Jenny cut in, her voice dripping with disapproval. "You weren't there when Ms. Carr confronted B in the hallway last week."

"What happened?" Aaron suddenly spoke up from across the table, his eyes trained solely on Jenny's.

Dan grimaced. "Seriously, man? You too?"

"She's my stepsister," was the extent of Aaron's cold response before he turned back to Jenny. "What happened last week?"

"Ms. Carr was _livid_," Jenny continued, grateful to have found someone on her side. "She hurled all these nasty words at her, calling her a spoiled, little brat, a bully."

"In front of everyone?"

Jenny nodded her head. "And then she swore that she would do everything possible to keep Blair from getting into Yale. We were all so shocked. I mean, yes, what B did was childish and probably not the smartest thing in the world, but she does regret the whole thing, you know."

"Which Ms. Carr will realize eventually," Dan droned in impatience. "I think you're taking this out of proportion just as much as Blair is. Ms. Carr will calm down eventually. And Queller will also return Blair's many phone calls. And then Blair will get her letter of admission from Yale, and we'll all laugh about this in a couple of months. So for the _last time_, leave it. Just leave the damn thing alone, OK?"

As though he had planned the well-timed exit himself, his phone suddenly began to ring. Allison and Rufus immediately shot their son reproachful looks, while Cyrus and Eleanor, who were far more accustomed to these types of intrusions, merely donned resigned smiles.

"Somewhere you have to be?" Cyrus asked in amusement.

Dan tore his eyes away from Serena's unusually short text message to address the man ruefully, "I'm afraid so. Would it be so terrible if I took off?"

"Not at all," Cyrus replied amiably. "Go on. We'll save some matzo for you."

Eagerly taking this as his cue, Dan got on his feet and bade everyone a good night (glowering sister included).

He promised himself he would fix things with Blair in the morning, when her temper cooled down…and Serena wasn't a few blocks away, in a room filled with the seediest people.


	8. Straight to Hell

_Hey guys. I'm telling you straight up that there's zero Dan and Blair interaction in this chapter but a whole lotta Blair and Chuck (whom I love…despite appearances). You'll get an idea of why they broke up, and why Blair's still so obviously hung up about it. In other words, **drama**._

_Once again, sorry for the late update. Please enjoy and feel free to leave comments! Cheers!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

"What do you mean the class is _full_?" Blair demanded, as she towered over her most devoted underling. "The registrar told me last week that there was one spot left, and it was as good as mine!"

"Yes, Miss Blair, but—"

"Get back in line and fix this!" For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Blair clenched her teeth and dug her heels on the pavement, her patience tested beyond endurance. Months of being on the waitlist for Professor Forrester's class had evidently taken their toll on her already frayed pride.

_Were things ever going to look up?_ she wanted to scream out loud. She was frustrated and sick, so sick of never having things pan out the way she wanted them to. She was already stuck in this damn school, and she had no friends except for Nate and Serena. But Professor Forrester's class, _really_? That had to be taken away from her, too?

"Miss Blair," Dorota went on helplessly, her eyebrows creasing in concern. "I talk to both registrar and department coordinator already. The say 'Intro to Business' is full, no space. Maybe try other class. Economic Theory sounds fun."

Blair's irritation flared, but luckily for Dorota, she managed to subdue it enough to count from one to ten before speaking again. "Fine, whatever. Just give me an update on Operation Chamberlain."

"Operation Chamberlain?" The plump woman had the audacity to feign ignorance.

"Has—Professor—Chamberlain—picked—me—as—her—teaching—assistant—yet—or—what?" Blair bit out slowly and dangerously.

Swallowing her fear, Dorota reluctantly fished for the BlackBerry in Blair's purse and showed her the e-mail. "She…ah…says position is already taken."

This seemed to be the final straw, as Blair's stormy eyes bulged out of their sockets. "_By whom_?"

Dorota gulped, dreading what would come next. "Juliet…Sharp."

A loud, piercing laugh suddenly boomed from the distance, distracting Blair from the blinding rage that threatened to massacre them both. She swung around to find the source, until her eyes zeroed in on a small group of fashionably dressed young women, sitting on the steps of Butler Library. The sight of these Hamilton House members—made recognizable by the gleaming, platinum key necklaces draped on their slim necks—caused Blair's blood to boil.

Juliet Sharp, of course, was sitting on the topmost step. Though Blair had never met the woman, it was easy to single her out. Juliet was easily the best dressed, looking expensive in head-to-toe Valentino, her elegant chin held high, her cohorts hanging onto her every word. Without thinking, Blair began heading towards them, her maroon Brian Atwood heels click-clacking on the pavement.

"You scheming, manipulative bitch!" She yelled, as she kept her eyes angrily leveled at their leader.

Juliet tilted her head to glare at Blair so disconcertingly that for one short, nearly nonexistent second, Blair regretted this particular outburst.

"Someone should really tell Bloomberg to fix the vermin problem in this city," Juliet smirked, and every one of them snorted—a sound that further crippled Blair's instinctive fit of courage.

She refused to cower, however. "Was humiliating me at Hamilton House not enough that you just hadto steal Chamberlain's TA position, too?"

"Blair, Blair, Blair," Juliet said in a tone so patronizing that Blair wanted to do very violent things to her. "You forget that Chamberlain chose me for a reason. It's not myfault if she only wants to associate with other _respectable_ and _powerful_ women."

Blair's mouth hung open. It suddenly dawned on her that Juliet would do anything and everything to make sure she got her way, even if it meant ruining Blair's academic future at Columbia. "I can't believe it…you…you stole my spot in Professor Forrester's class, too, didn't you?"

An evil gleam flashed in Juliet's eyes. "Are you referring to the class my dear _cousin_ Colin teaches?"

Blair's fists clenched tightly. "That was my spot, Juliet."

"Miss Blair…I think we should go," Dorota whispered anxiously from the side.

"Oh, look, girls, she even brought her maid with her," Juliet sneered, as she gave Dorota a rude onceover. "She couldn't find friends of her own so she decided to hire one."

"_Enough_." The authority in Blair's voice was heard loud and clear, as every Hamilton House member ceased laughing. "Just because Nate was smart enough to dump your psycho ass does not give you the right to blacklist me on campus."

A collective gasp was heard. Juliet's eyes narrowed and her voice dropped in volume. "That's where you're wrong. This student body trusts me to keep has-been skanks like you at bay."

"_What did you call her_?"

Blair felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs. She knew that voice. She knew it very well.

"And who the hell are you?" Juliet demanded, none the wiser.

"Chuck Bass."

Blair closed her eyes, hoping it would stop the pounding in her chest. He was supposed to have left, to have flown back to Brown and away from her. But he was here. She could feel him standing directly behind her, could hear the grunts of anger that were emanating from him.

"And I should care because…?"

Boldly, he stepped in front of Blair, ready to play the hero. Even with his back to her, she was struck by how familiar he looked. His coiffed hair, his immaculate chesterfield coat, the musky scent of his cologne. Like always, everything he wore screamed money. Lots of it.

"Because I have enough information to blackmail all your fathers," He snarled, darting a dark glance at every Hamilton House member, before settling his menacing eyes on Juliet. "Including your _dear cousin Colin_—whose company, by the way, is a Bass subsidiary and therefore utterly at my mercy."

"I-I…" Juliet gaped, her face flushing unbecomingly.

"So I hope you remember that the next time you cross Blair Waldorf again. Have I made myself clear?"

Stricken, Juliet managed to nod her head.

"And one more thing," He denied her even that moment of respite to gesture impatiently at the necklace on her throat. "Both Serena and Blair will be expecting to get those flimsy key necklaces sometime in the near future. Do I have your word that you'll personally make sure they receive them without any further delay?"

"I'll—I'll send them off at once."

Not one to leave a job half finished, he stalked even closer to peer down at Juliet more threateningly. "I believe Blair would like to hear her formal invitation herself."

Juliet all but oozed with resentment. This was obviously the last thing she wanted to do. But for all her audacity, the woman wasn't stupid. "Welcome to Hamilton House, Blair."

Stunned silent, Blair examined the platinum silver necklace on her palm. This was what she had been waiting for for months. This was her rite of passage to Columbia, her one, true chance of making a better life for herself at this school.

And yet her skin burned under its touch.

She felt nauseous and dirty. She felt weak, so laughably weak that she needed _Chuck Bass_, the guy who shattered her heart into a thousand pieces, to come to her rescue. After everything he put her through last summer. As though she had been scalded, she threw the necklace on the ground, next to Juliet's boot-covered feet.

"What the hell?"

Blair ignored the girl's exclamation. She picked up her speed instead, needing to distance herself from Chuck as far as possible.

"Blair!" She heard him call after her. "Wait! Please!"

She didn't dare look back. She hurriedly pushed passed crowds of students, clutching tightly to her coat, as though the thick wool could somehow protect her.

"Blair!" She heard again, but this time, his hand managed to circle around her arm.

"_Please_," he begged, trying to keep up with her.

Panicked, she made a move to free herself, but his grip only tightened.

"Please just let me—"

"Just so we're clear," She said in a shaky yet unforgiving voice, "that display of heroism back there does _not_ change anything between us."

"I know I have no right to talk to you," Chuck began quickly, mistaking this for an opening. "Hell, to even come near you. But please, Blair, I just want to—"

"Let me guess, say sorry?" She finally wrenched his hand from her arm, her eyes grim and mocking. "Save it, Chuck. I didn't want to hear it then and I certainly don't want to now."

Shoulders slumped, he dropped his gaze to the ground and made no other move to stop her. Perhaps, it was the obvious pain in her voice that finally got to him, she didn't quite know. But he stayed back just as she wanted. In fact, it was so unlike the Chuck Bass she knew that it unnerved her. She had barely taken three steps away from him, when she was hit by a sudden realization. She may not have wanted his apology, but after months of feeling betrayed and sorry for herself, she at least deserved some answers. So she stopped walking and worked up the courage to look back. She was tired of running. Tired of being weak and afraid. She was Blair Waldorf, goddamn it, and Blair Waldorf was no coward.

"I want to know," She began with a voice so cold, it made him visibly shudder. "How did you take it?"

"I don't…I don't understand."

"How did you take it when you found out I lost it?" She clarified viciously, blood pumping through her heart. "Did you jump for joy? Thank God for this piece of good luck?

For once, Chuck's face turned a deathly white. "_No_! God no! I was…" His voice trailed off, as he ran a frantic hand through his coiffed hair. "I was just…I wasn't ready, Blair."

"You think I was?" The violent and angry voice was gone. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and she struggled not to drown in them. "I was _terrified_. I was lost and helpless and alone in a foreign country with no one to talk to. You left me, Chuck. You left me when I needed you most. No texts, no calls, nothing. Not even a curt e-mail telling me to call you in nine months."

"Blair…"

"If it weren't for Dan…" Memories began flooding her mind, memories of laughter and hugs and sun-drenched European afternoons. Every single one of them spent with her best friend. "If it weren't for Dan," She repeated with more determination, as she forced herself to look Chuck square in the eye, "I don't think I would've survived the summer. I don't think I would have been able to face you right now and tell you just how little you mean to me."

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

"You have to fix this," She cried, emotion catching in her throat.

"I don't see how I can, nor why I should."

"I have the highest GPA in my class, I got a 2300 on the SATs, I'm in the student council, I—"

"Hazed a teacher and made a fool out of me and this institution in the process."

"But it was a joke!" Blair cried out hysterically, getting up from her chair. "An _innocent_ prank. You have to believe me, I never meant to—"

"Frankly, Miss Waldorf, I don't have to do anything."

"But…but…" Blair was dangerously close to sobbing. She couldn't believe it. Everything was falling apart. Everything was unraveling before her eyes and she was powerless to stop it.

"Yale was the only school I applied to," She spoke up in desperation. "All the application deadlines have passed. No one's accepting anyone anymore. I have nothing, no other options. And my parents—what will I tell them? They'll be so…so…"

"Disappointed?" Headmistress Queller offered with a snort. "Well, perhaps, you should've considered that before hazing a faculty member."

"_Please_." The solitary word was laced with pain. "I know I screwed up and I know you're angry at me, but Yale…it means everything to me. I've been dreaming about it since I was five. My dad went there, my grandparents, great-grandparents, practically every Waldorf generation has walked through its doors."

"For the last time," Headmistress Queller said, as she raised a hand to silence her student, "I've done everything I could—certainly more than you deserve. But the decision ultimately rests with the university and they chose not to admit you. I don't know how else to help you, Ms. Waldorf. You will simply have to learn to accept this."

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, you've reached Dan's phone. I'm busy…or sleeping…or both, but if you leave me a message, I'll try to get back to you<em>." _–Beep—_

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Blair jammed her finger on the "Redial" button of her BlackBerry. It was already nine in the evening. She was slumped down on her bathroom floor. And the air smelled eerily like vomit. She had skipped the rest of her classes after her interview with Queller, preferring to escape the persistent questions of her minions, who, no doubt, were probably celebrating her fall from grace.

"_Hey, you've reached Dan's phone_—"

She promptly ended the call and let out a miserable snort. How predictable_._ She didn't even see the point in calling Dan anymore, not when all he did was either decline her phone calls or ignore them outright. He's probably with Serena, Blair thought sardonically. Probably making a lovesick ass of himself, while his supposedly _best _friend was waist-deep in misery. What could Blair possibly say to him, anyway?

"_Hey, Dan, it's B. I just found out that my dreams have been shattered irreparably, and the one person who's supposed to give a damn can't even be bothered to pick up the phone. So, yeah, thanks for nothing. Toodles!_"

She thumped her head against the wall in frustration. Nothing was going as she had planned. Absolutely nothing. She had no future as far as she was concerned, no prospects, no plan B's, not even a friend to whom she could pour her heart out.

A heavier wave of misery washed over her.

"Miss Blair? Are you still in there?" Her maid Dorota suddenly called out. This was followed by a frantic rapping on the locked bathroom door that separated them.

"I'm fine, Dorota," Blair muttered dismissively, her thumb still hovering over the "Redial" button of her phone. "Just leave me alone."

"Why don't you come out and we talk about it?"

"Leave me alone."

"But your dinner get cold—"

"_Leave me alone_!" Blair screamed out so angrily that she hurled her phone against the door, watching it burst into tiny pieces of plastic.

Finally, there was silence. Dorota had finally left, and now Blair was truly alone. After some effort, she pulled herself off the floor. The first thing she saw was her pallid and lifeless face on the mirror. For some reason, the sad sight fueled her anger. She needed to get out of here, she told herself. She needed to forget.

* * *

><p>"<em>Blair<em>?" The familiar figure staggered back in shock as he watched Blair Waldorf in a lacy, virginal number saunter towards him. "What are you doing here? Is everything OK?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I want to escape. That's what this place is for, right?" She boldly pried the glass of scotch from his hand and knocked it back without further ado. Her throat immediately protested. She burst out coughing, even had to lean on him for a moment, before the burning sensation left and all she could feel was the numbness.

"Hey, take it easy!"

She ignored this and let out an inelegant snort. "So this is what the famous Chuck Bass invested in: a strip joint. How midtown."

The interior of Victrola was dark and lavish, and the burlesque dancers so tantalizingly beautiful that the crowd of appreciative spectators had gathered to the front in excitement. The whole place reeked of alcohol and designer perfume. It was almost overpowering, in fact, but Blair was just glad it wasn't the smell of her own vomit.

Suddenly, Chuck gripped her arm, summarily pulling her out of her thoughts and right towards the exit. "Look, as much as I enjoy your company, you really shouldn't be here. Serena would _kill_ me, first of all—"

"I've been rejected from Yale." It left her lips before she had realized it. It was the first time she had said it out loud, but no tears or anguished cries followed this confession. Instead she was the epitome of defiance, squaring her shoulders and sending Chuck a look that just dared him to argue. But his reaction took her by surprise. A number of emotions flittered across his face: disbelief, concern, sympathy. But never any judgment. Rather than demanding an explanation or indulgently comforting her, he just loosened his grip on her arm and smiled. Not suggestively, not jeeringly, but with enough sincerity for her to know that he understood.

"Refill?"

Still a little unsettled, she nodded breathlessly, "Please."

She wouldn't realize it until much later, but that was the precise moment she had fallen in love with Chuck Bass.

"Alexandra," He called out, his smoldering gaze never leaving Blair's. "We'll be needing a bottle of Dom. The '85, if you may."

The statuesque cocktail waitress named Alexandra sent them both a saucy smile. "Right away, Mr. Bass."

* * *

><p>They had champagne and Patron, martinis and scotch, and maybe a few other cocktails she hadn't bothered to keep track off. It was as if sometime along the way Chuck had made himself a willing accomplice, plying her with all the things she needed to forget. Questions were never asked; that was the unspoken policy for which Blair was incredibly thankful. And every time a wave of depression would wash over her, he'd simply challenge her to another drinking contest and then flirt with her outrageously until all she could do was giggle and flirt back.<p>

At some point, they found themselves seated on the most luxurious loveseat in the house with a full view of the dancers. These women were so beautiful, Blair thought with a tinge of envy, so forthright with their sexuality.

Suddenly, she wished she could throw caution to the wind just like they did. It was an entirely ridiculous notion, one that made her giggle to herself, but the plain absurdity of it did not stop the words that next came out of her mouth. "You know, I got moves."

Grinning lazily, Chuck sat up so their shoulders were touching. "Really? Then why don't you get up there?"

She snorted. "No, I'm just saying. I have moves."

"C'mon," he cajoled, shooting her another lascivious smirk. "You're ten times hotter than any of those girls."

The smile died on her face. "I know what you're doing, Bass." But even as she brought her gaze back to the stage, the niggling suspicion that he was merely playing with her lingered at the back of her mind. "You really don't think I'd go up there."

An arrogant grin found its way on his lips. "I know you won't do it."

"Guard my drink."

Heart pounding, she pushed the glass to Chuck's hand and pulled herself to her feet. She had always loved a challenge. Sanity, for all the good it had brought her, was no match for what she was about to do. The woman who sauntered up that stage and parted coquettishly with her headband and sent lascivious winks to her audience and made impish little pouts with her lips—it was this woman who had pushed the Old Blair Waldorf off a cliff and took her place. And, boy, did she revel in all the attention. Every lewd whistle and enthusiastic howl fueled this new and exciting side to her, pushing and tempting her to go just a little a bit further. Her heart hammered in her rib cage, as her fingers found that cleverly hidden zipper on the side of her dress. Slowly and painstakingly she slid it down, knowing exactly the effect she was having on the people around her. Ironically, her dress was one of the more conservative pieces in her closet, but this fact was soon forgotten when the dress finally pooled to the ground, revealing the appliquéd silk chemise she wore underneath. Her smirk grew even more impish, more triumphant, as she played with the string of pearls on her neck, pulling everyone's gazes to her chest. She felt like she was on top of the world. The sense of lightness she got was positively intoxicating. And despite the blinding glare of the lights and the general haziness of the club, she noticed the moment Chuck got up from his seat. She watched his every move with perfect clarity, the way his mouth hung open, the way his dark and ever calculating eyes widened with wonder—confused wonder, as though he couldn't quite recognize the woman in front of him.

Well, neither could she, Blair thought, laughing huskily as she spun around on the stage. Neither could she.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for the lift home."<p>

Despite her exhaustion, she managed to tilt her head towards him. They had just left Victrola a few minutes ago and were now seated in the back of Chuck's limo. Gently, he laced his long, graceful fingers through hers, a gesture so much like Dan's that for one traitorous moment she allowed herself to pretend that it was a rough and callused hand caressing hers. That it was Dan's warm and familiar eyes she couldn't stop staring into, as though they were telling her in that wordless and intimate way of his that everything would be alright, that there was something in her seemingly bleak future to look forward to after all. But this wasn't Dan.

The dark eyes staring deeply into hers at that moment were far too dark. They were foreign and unsettling, causing shivers to run down her spine.

"You were…amazing…up there," Chuck suddenly said, the awe evident in his voice. He scooted a little closer, even went so far as to rest his forehead against hers. To her surprise, she didn't want to pull away. Oddly, she felt safe. Safer and warmer than she had in a very long time.

"Blair?"

She opened her eyes once more. But what she saw made her mouth go instantly dry. He looked…_hungry_—so hungry that all sense of time and space fled from her mind. Never before had she felt so alive, so desired and wanted by another person. She wanted this pleasure, she realized, this moment of impulse. Like a woman possessed, she wanted to let go of all her inhibitions, to be reckless and crazy and so fabulously irresponsible just _once_, just for one night.

And for some inexplicable reason, she wanted it to be with Chuck. So much so that she boldly grabbed the man's lapels and kissed him. Really kissed him, until the only thing on her mind was the hungry way his teeth scraped her tongue and how different and exhilarating he tasted.

For the first time in all her seventeen years, Blair Waldorf was lost.


	9. Lonely Boy

_So…long time no see! Terribly sorry for the gross lack of update. School, life, etc. always seem to intrude on my writing time. But I do hope you stick with me and my story, because I do—I really, really do-intend to finish it. _

_Happy reading!_

* * *

><p><strong>Present Day<strong>

He had to be dreaming. This was insanity itself, the stuff of dreams. Any minute now his alarm clock would go off, and this really amazing, really unbelievable affair would cease to exist, and Dan Humphrey would go back to his really small and really inconsequential life.

"Speechless?" Noah Shapiro grumbled in a dry tone. "This must be a first."

The imposing New York Times Magazine editor sat comfortably behind his desk, his face bearing an utter lack of concern with the bombshell he had just dropped.

"You sent my manuscript to…to…Jonathan Karp," Dan's voice cracked, as he tried to process this life-changing bit of information. "You liked it enough to…to send it to the head publisher of Simon & Schuster."

"Jon's a pal," Shapiro grunted dismissively. "He's the first one who came to mind actually, but if you want, you can always look into more options. Perhaps, get a literary agent of your own—which reminds me," He swiveled his chair around and barked at the open door of his office: "_Sheila_! Get in here! Tell me you still have the contact info of one of Gladwell's cast-offs."

"Canadian or American?" His surprisingly unruffled secretary asked, leaning casually on the doorway.

"New Yorker, if possible."

"There's the one with the bob, Alessandra," Sheila replied conversationally, as she perused her iPad, right index finger swinging to and fro. "I think her contract with Saunders expired last month."

"Perfect. Give the woman a call and get back to me. _No_, first, send her a copy of Humphrey's work, _then_ wait for her to call, because she will. Greedy sharks, the lot of them," Shapiro couldn't help muttering in disgust.

"You're referring _me_ to an actual agent? Who…who worked with the likes of Malcolm Gladwell and George Saunders? Oh God, I have to sit down." No one bothered to comment that Dan was already, in fact, seated in a chair.

"You're not going to faint on me now, are you?"

"Mr. Shapiro," Dan practically groaned, as he began running a hand through his hopelessly messy hair. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done for me. You have no idea what it means, knowing you believe in my work this much, but…I can't publish this. You know I can't."

The aging editor merely leaned back, unperturbed, his leather chair creaking under his weight. "Is it because of Clair Carlisle?"

Dan bristled at the name. Losing all sense, he shot up from his chair and dared to cut the man a dark look.

"What about her?" He demanded coldly, his fists balled at the sides.

Both Shapiro and his secretary stared at Dan in surprise. Gone was the spineless and sputtering boy. Before them stood a complete stranger—who, by all appearances, seemed to be hankering for a fight.

Shocked as he was, Shapiro felt an involuntary tug at his lips. He found that he quite liked this other side to Humphrey.

"Well? What about her?"

Sheila was scowling now. As a mother of four and the supervisor to a good number of office interns, she was averse to such audacity. She was about to give the young man a sharp and adequate set down, when her boss locked eyes with her and quietly shook his head.

"Relax, Humphrey," Shapiro droned, his eyes rolling impertinently. He, too, stood up from his chair and began to circle the interminably cramped office in contemplation. "I have nothing bad to say about your _dear_ Clair Carlisle…"

Dan didn't miss the sardonic tone of his voice. His nostrils flared but otherwise he did a successful job in reining in his anger.

"If you must know, I rather like the woman."

It was Dan's turn to be surprised. His and Sheila's mouths fell in unison. "_What?_" They both exclaimed.

Shapiro's smirk widened. "I don't know what to tell you, kid. She has this way about her."

"Way?" Dan croaked. He reached blindly for his chair, gripping the arm in case he decided to make an even bigger fool of himself by swooning.

Shapiro, thankfully, didn't seem to notice. The old man was still making lazy hand gestures in the air. "That sharp tongue of hers…that beguiling arrogance…that elegance…the sort a Wharton-esque aristocrat would have. She's a creature of contradiction, Humphrey. One minute, she has you seething and angry, and the next, you find you can't quite live without the wench."

Dan let out a disbelieving chuckle. Now, _this _was insanity. He felt his chest loosen for the first time that morning. "Yes, I-I suppose she does."

"She's certainly charming, though not at all like that other girl…what's her name again?" Shapiro paused to peer down at the open manuscript on his desk. "Ah, yes, _Sabrina_. The 'Beauty.' I gather she's the same person you've been writing about in the past?"

Dan's surge of elation instantly dimmed. "Yes…she is." Guilt struck him once more, this time in a heavier barrage, as he tried to imagine all the ways Serena would kill him for his portrayal of her.

"I'm surprised you refrained from waxing poetic about her 'sea-like eyes' or her disarmingly sunny disposition."

_If only I didn't._ Dan resisted the urge to loosen his collar.

"Is it perhaps because this character of yours, the charming Clair Carlisle…is she your new muse?"

Dan let out a pained sigh. _She_ was really the crux of his problem, wasn't she? He didn't mean to write about her. He didn't even know he had a new muse until Shapiro brought her up. But the fact of the matter was that this was as much her story as it was his.

"That's precisely why I can't publish this, Mr. Shapiro," Dan replied quietly. "The stuff in that book are her experiences, her very real experiences. And I would be the worst kind of person if I were to profit from them."

"I think Miss Waldorf might like how she's painted in your book."

Dan was stunned into silence. For a moment, his mind slammed to a halt, as he met Shapiro's penetrating gaze. _How did he_—but, of course, he would know. Blair was the one who introduced them, after all.

Dan's neck rapidly turned an ugly shade of red—out of shame or embarrassment, he wasn't quite sure.

"I'm screwed, aren't I?" He rasped, no longer caring if he swooned in the middle of his mentor's office. Hell, he was surprised he lasted this long on his feet.

"Quite the opposite actually," Shapiro murmured, casually leafing through a few documents in Sheila's hands. "I think what you have in your hands is an extraordinary piece of work. And Blair or Clair or whoever this remarkable girl in your novel is—she, of all people, would want you to publish this book. Want my advice? Talk to her. Just have a long, nice talk with the girl. Then, when you're ready, come back next week so you can meet Jon yourself. And don't forget to bring the rest of the chapters."

"That might take some time…"

"And why is that?"

Dan felt himself getting flustered again. "Because I don't _have_ anything else. This novel has always been a work in progress for me. Off and on, for more than four years, like I said."

"Start writing, then. As soon as you get home."

"I-I can't," He said, wondering why he couldn't tell the man straight that he wouldn't be pushing through with this damn novel. "I'm busy tonight. It's my sister's Cotillion."

"Ah, the young _Julia Hunter_, I presume?" The knowing gleam in Shapiro's eyes made Dan groan.

"Yes. In other words, another person in the long list of people who will hunt me down after I have this thing published."

Shapiro chuckled softly. "_'Take a stand, Humphrey. Be a great man instead of being a good boy.'_"

Dan didn't bother to tell the editor that the only type of man he was going to be was a dead man. A very, very dead man.

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

Death, Dan thought, couldn't come fast enough. It was well past midnight and he, to his very great dismay, was stuck in what appeared to be the noisiest, most crowded, and most fashionable nightclub in the city.

"So, Dave, buddy, how'd you meet Serena?"

Dan gritted his teeth.

"It's _Dan_," he said, sparing one of Serena's Abercrombie-and-Fitch cohorts a cold look of impatience.

"In Cannes? Man, I haven't been to Cannes in ages! Did you go to the Rue—"

"No, I meant my name is Dan. Not Dave. You've already asked me this question three times in the span of an hour, and each time you got my name wrong. My name is _Dan_."

Serena's friend had the decency to look abashed. "Oh…dude, uhh…sorry."

"_Gabriel_," Serena exclaimed in a deceptively singsong voice, as she wedged herself between both men. "I think Poppy's looking for you. You know how she gets. Find us later?"

She batted her eyelashes up at Gabriel so becomingly, the poor fellow could only flash her a lovesick grin. "You bet, Serena." With that, he bade the tense couple a quick goodbye and finally scampered away.

Dan pulled a face of disgust. Ten to one, the imbecile would return to ask about his imaginary villa in Cannes. Letting out a long sigh, Dan looked down at his watch. "So how long were you planning to stay here? If we leave now, we could still catch that documentary screen—"

"_Don't_," Serena snarled with such uncharacteristic coldness that he immediately looked up at her in surprise.

"Don't, what?"

"Are you serious?" She hissed, as she snatched his sleeve and dragged him towards a more secluded area.

At first, he was stunned. Her face was contorted with such inexplicable anger that for a moment, he wondered if he should just apologize. But before he knew it, his ugly half took over, and his own pent-up anger began to spill out in droves.

"No, Serena, I'm confused. Flummoxed. Discom-_freaking-_bobulated. I have absolutely no clue why you're suddenly so upset, when I spent my entire night doing everything you wanted me to. Did I go to your friend Poppy's stupid party? Yes! Did I once complain? No! I did everything you asked me to _without fail_."

"No, what you did was spend the entire night, judging me and my friends! Like everything was somehow beneath you—"

"Well, _maybe_ if they stopped treating me like I'm this temporary fixture in your life, I'd make more of an effort to be Mr. Popular!" Dan shouted back, feeling vulnerable and vindicated at the same time. "It's bad enough that people at school still think I'm Blair's charity case, but at least they know my name. At least she lets them know I'm in her life for good!"

At that moment, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glanced at it impatiently andw as surprised to find that Dorota—and, speak of the devil, even Blair—had attempted to call him several times.

_Why on earth would Dorota call_—

"So Gabriel forgot your name a couple of times tonight," Serena droned dismissively, pulling him back to their argument. "That's hardly anything to be upset about."

Dan's eyes snapped back to his girlfriend, any thoughts about Blair and missed phone calls instantly forgotten.

"Serena, your own _mother_ mistook me for a cater-waiter at her dinner party last week!" She blushed. "—Never mind the fact that you and I have been dating for almost an entire year and that I've met the woman more times than I can count. God, doesn't it bother you that your friends and family don't think we're serious? Hell, sometimes I feel like _you _don't think we're in a serious relationship either."

"That's unfair," Serena threw back at him defensively.

"Really? Can you even remember the last time we spent any alone time together? Whenever we hang out, it always has to be with other people. It's like I'm dating the entire city. There's always someone back in town, someone throwing a party that you can't possibly miss out on."

"Well, I'm _sorry_ I have a life!" She yelled out hysterically, just short of pulling her beautiful blonde hair out. Dan was dumbfounded. Not even the loud music reverberating through the room could drown out her voice. "I'm sorry that I don't want to spend my Friday night, watching obscure foreign films or—or that I can't understand your esoteric philosophical ramblings about some dead Romanticist painter! God, I'm human! I like dumb, flashy blockbusters! I like going to parties and club openings!"

"Serena—"

"—And now, I suppose you think I'm every bit the airheaded socialite the gossip rags make me out to be. So stupid she had to cheat her way through the SATs—"

Dan's eyes widened. "I didn't say that!"

"No, but you've been thinking it," She spat out accusingly. "It's obvious we have absolutely nothing in common."

"That's not true!"

"Yeah?" She challenged, her gaze blazing. "Then, name one thing."

"We…we…" His voice trailed off. This wasn't fair. She was catching him off-guard, blowing things out of proportion. "Look, it's been a long night. Why don't I take you home so we can talk about this in private?"

"I have nothing to say anymore, Dan."

He froze. Her voice had barely been a whisper, but Dan had heard every word. He desperately wished he hadn't.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

She brought her gaze to the ground, her cheeks reddening. "No…I don't know…I just think we both need some space."

"Serena…"

"I have to go."

She swung around so abruptly that a few locks of her golden hair grazed his cheek. It stung but more so, he realized with painful clarity, did her rejection.


End file.
